


Family Doesn't End With Blood

by dettiot



Series: Felicity Stark [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 91,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: Felicity is the fiancée of Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow.  She is Tony Stark’s princess and lives by the motto ‘What Would Pepper Potts Do?’.  But she’s also her own woman.  So when everything in her world comes crashing down, she’ll have to discover how strong she truly is--with the help of her family.  A sequel toIt Runs in the Family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I never thought I would be here! When I finished **It Runs in the Family** in August 2015, I didn’t think I would ever revisit that universe. But between season 4 of _Arrow_ and **Captain America: Civil War** , I was left with so many feels and ideas for how Felicity Stark would handle Damian Darhk and the Sokovia Accords at the same time. Voilá, this fic.
> 
> As already alluded to, this sequel begins three and a half years after the end of **It Runs in the Family** , around episode 4x10 of _Arrow_. There are some canon events from _Arrow_ season 4, but also some changes since **It Runs in the Family** was an AU to begin with. I have also stretched and/or compressed the timeline of **Captain America: Civil War** to make things pair up with _Arrow_ , and referenced events from both the Marvel Cinematic Universe and Marvel comics. If anything is unclear, just ask and I’ll explain what I did. :-) 
> 
> Many many many thanks to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline for her beta skills and cheerleading, and to adiwriting and twinkiepeas for being first readers and capital idea bouncers. This story wouldn’t be half as good without their help!

 

“Good morning, Felicity.  It’s eight-thirty a.m. and you have a conference call in one hour.”  

The Scottish tinge to the voice of D.A.V.I.S. normally made Felicity Stark smile.  In the last month, though, she had been finding it hard to smile.  

She smiled, of course.  She smiled to reassure Oliver.  To put on the brave face for the employees of Stark Industries.  To keep her parents from worrying.  To appear like she was recovering, that she was adjusting, that she was fine.  

Yet Felicity knew she was so far from fine.  

Rolling over in bed, she winced as her upper body moved while her lower body remained still.  Motionless.  

When would the day come when she would remember, when she woke up, that she was paralyzed?

Felicity pushed herself up and ran her hands through her hair.  Like he had some kind of sixth sense, Oliver stepped out of the bathroom, showered and ready for his day.  

“Hey,” he said softly, walking over to her and leaning down to kiss her.  “Good morning.”  

As much as she wanted to say it wasn’t a good morning, the satisfaction of saying exactly what she thought wouldn’t be enough to overcome how Oliver would react to her words.  Even though what had happened to her wasn’t his fault, her dear sweet hero was having trouble believing that.

If it hadn’t been for Oliver, her injuries might not just be a damaged spinal cord.  She might be dead.  When Damian Darhk’s men had fired on their limo, on the way home from the tree-lighting/wedding announcement, Oliver had been able to keep his head and get them away from the men attacking them.  Felicity had just cowered on the floor of the limo, unable to do anything.  

Which had ended up being her fate--being unable to do anything--so she supposed it could be seen as foreshadowing.  She had never really been capable of protecting herself and now she could do even less.  At least before, she could have run away.  Now, she would only be able to wheel away.  Unless a midget with a limp was coming after her, Felicity stood no chance of escaping.  

“Felicity?”  

Giving her head a shake, she pasted a big smile on her face.  “Good morning.  You look all ready to go.”    

“Yeah, early morning strategy session with Alex,” Oliver said, sounding less than thrilled.  

Her smile felt more natural at seeing Oliver’s grumpy face.  “You know Alex has been exactly what your campaign needed.  Your numbers in the polls are going up and soon, you will be the new mayor of Star City,” Felicity said, reaching out for Oliver’s hands.  

“Yours is the only vote that counts,” Oliver said, making her blush.  Oliver was always sweet, with a gift for words he never seemed to realize he had.  Ever since her injury, when he had barely left her hospital bedside and had then worked to get their loft wheelchair-friendly, the things he said were like a cherry on the sundae.  

Or like the diamond ring sparkling on her finger.  She couldn’t believe she had actually thought she should let him go, since her injuries meant she might never walk again.  Oliver had very quickly disabused her of that notion.  

Maybe she could keep her depression at bay if she just spent more time with Oliver.  

“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s how elections work,” she said, reaching out to stroke his jacket lapel.  

He smiled and kissed her cheek again.  “You’ve got a conference call today?”  

“Yeah, getting a status update on where the company stands,” Felicity replied, hoping she sounded at least slightly enthusiastic.  Fake it ‘til you make it, after all.  Even though conference calls were even worse than meetings.  

Unfortunately, based off Oliver’s reaction, she must need some work on her enthusiastic attitude.  “I’ll bring home some mint chip,” he said.  “Do you want me to help you with getting dressed?”  

“Only good thing about conference calls over meetings?  Just my top half has to look like a vice-president,” Felicity said breezily.  “I can handle that.”  

With a chuckle, Oliver straightened up.  “Okay.  Dinner is in the fridge.  Throw it in the oven and heat at four twenty-five for a half hour.  I should be home around six, so we can eat together before I go to the lair.  Or we go to the lair . . . ”  

“The Arrow Cave,” she corrected him, hoping to distract him from the question of when she might start helping the team again.  

“The lair,” he repeated, giving her a look.  “See you tonight.  I love you.”  

Felicity reached out and grabbed his hand.  “I love you, too,” she said, meaning it with everything inside her.  Because over the last four weeks, everything in her life had been turned upside down.  Except for Oliver.  

A brilliant smile appeared on his face.  The smile she loved to see, the smile that was hers and hers alone.  He squeezed her hand and left the room with all of his stalking ninja-like grace.  

Once again, the phrase “Hate to see him go, but love to watch him walk away,” popped into Felicity’s head.  Which was true, but it bugged her.  More accurately, these epic mood swings bugged her.  One minute she was ready to stay in bed for the rest of her life, and the next, she was feeling as giddy as a sugar-filled toddler on a roller coaster.  

Perhaps it was a side effect of her medication.  Like the hallucinations she had experienced, right after she had come home from the hospital.  

_ Malcolm Merlyn leered at her.  “In a wheelchair now?  You’ll be so much easier for me to catch this time.  Because you really don’t think I had stayed dead, now, did you?” _

_ Pepper brushed a hand over Felicity’s hair.  “We should get you a live-in assistant.  Someone to help you, Felicity.  You can’t carry the load anymore.  And you should definitely consider stepping down from SI to focus on your recovery.  It’s all just too much for you--we always thought you had taken on too much, moving away and trying to run the company.  It’s time you accepted your limits.” _

_ Tony let out a soft whistle.  “This isn’t good, princess.  You think that himbo is gonna stick around now that you’re in that chair?  He’s dumb, in a loyal little puppy dog kind of way.  He’ll stick with you as long as he feels guilty.  But when he needs to hump something, he’ll run off.  He’s not  _ **_that_ ** _ dumb--not after three years around you.  You were bound to rub off on him.  Unless . . . maybe you’re not as smart as you thought.”    _

_ Natasha gave her one of those long, loaded looks that always made Felicity feel weak and inferior.  Beside her, Steve looked mournful, while Clint shook his head sadly.  Bruce couldn’t even look at her, as if her injuries were an insult to him.  The rest of the Avengers all gazed at her, with one expression on their faces: pity.   _

Just the memories of that horrible day and a half was enough to make Felicity shudder.  Without telling anyone, she had started taking a half dose of that particular medication and the hallucinations had stopped.  So even if she was in pain more often than she liked, it was worth it.  

Reaching out, Felicity moved her wheelchair a bit closer to the bed, then set the brakes carefully.  She levered herself into the chair, her arm muscles trembling a little, but nothing like they had when she had first attempted to get in her chair by herself.  

“At least I’ll have the best arms in the Arrow Cave.  Female division, that is.  Although Thea would definitely beat me . . . and Lyla, too, and she’s not even a full member of Team Arrow,” Felicity muttered to herself as she pushed herself into her closet.  Pushing aside those thoughts, Felicity picked out one of her most capable shirt-and-blazer combinations, then wheeled into the bathroom to change and do her hair and makeup.  

By the time she finished, she looked more like her old self.  Bright pink lips, hair in a ponytail, glasses on, wearing a bright purple top and a fitted black blazer.  At least, from the waist up she looked like her old self.  As long as no one noticed the wheelchair handles.

While she was in the hospital, Oliver had gotten a wheelchair lift installed in their loft, so she could move around without needing him to carry her up and down the stairs.  It was useful, since her office was on the first floor.  Much more convenient, too.  But getting carried by Oliver was such a nice experience, with his chest right there . . . 

Giving her head a shake, Felicity moved towards her office.  She didn’t even want to think what her inbox looked like, let alone how many projects were stalled because of her absence.  Hopefully, next week she would be able to go into the office again.  Her doctor would probably insist upon half-days to start, but as long as she got into the building, that would go a long way to helping things get back to normal.

At least her computers didn't notice she was in a wheelchair.  As soon as she had her fingers on the keyboard, she felt herself relax.   The click-clack of the keys, the soft hum of the computer fans, the screens filled with information: they were exactly what she expected and just as she had left them, that afternoon before she had changed for the tree-lighting. 

Including the folder on her desktop labeled WEDDING PLANS. 

For a long moment, Felicity stared at the folder icon.  She didn't open it, because like Pandora’s box, that folder was dangerous. 

When Oliver had proposed two and a half years ago, Felicity had thought they would be engaged a normal length of time.  Considering the size of her family, Oliver's profile in what was now Star City, and her workload, organizing a wedding turned out to be more of an undertaking than she had expected.  Although thankfully not like the capital-U Undertaking. 

She had been willing to wait until there was more time.  Then she had been taken by Damian Darhk.  And when she was sitting in that cell and remembering the first time she had been kidnapped and thought she was going to die--in that moment, all she could think about was marrying Oliver.  Getting to say her wedding vows, putting a ring on his finger, officially becoming Felicity Queen. 

Then Oliver had arrived, and even though it probably wasn’t the right time, she still had to ask him if he had changed his mind about marrying her.  She had to know, in case--in case--just in case. 

And he had smiled at her, and said, “Nothing’s changed, Felicity.”  

His smile, realizing that no matter what, their wedding was now a priority . . . it gave her the strength she needed.  She thought it had been the same for Oliver.  So she had her answer ready when he kneeled before her at the tree-lighting and asked, “Felicity Stark, will you make me the happiest man on the face of the earth--in June?”

They were going to get married in June.  Even now, with her in the wheelchair and unable to walk down the aisle like she had wanted.  For better or worse, Oliver had told her in the hospital.  

She just hoped they would only have good things for a while.  That nothing would get worse from here.  

The ping of the Stark teleconferencing software pulled her out of her thoughts, and Felicity pasted on her friendly, professional smile as her screen displayed a view of the SI conference room across town.  “Good morning, everyone,” Felicity said, letting her eyes roam over the faces of the department heads gathered before her.  “It’s good to see you.”  

Everyone burst into a round of applause, making Felicity’s smile falter as the tears threatened.  But instead, she lifted her head, double-downed on her smile, and focused on her normal mantra: What Would Pepper Do?

XXX

Felicity fidgeted with the pillows on the couch, plumping them up.  Then she wheeled to the first floor bathroom to make sure there was a fresh roll of toilet paper.  With that settled, she moved into the kitchen, where Oliver was pulling a quiche out of the oven.  He glanced over at her, set down the casserole dish, and walked over to her.  “Relax, baby,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss her.  

That was the problem: she  _ couldn’t  _ relax.  Moving her wheelchair as fast as she could was no match for pacing and shifting and doing stuff that required two working legs.  There was so much nervous energy coursing through her and she felt like she had no way to release it.  

Her parents would be arriving any minute now.  This was the first time they would be visiting her since the initial aftermath of the accident.  Based on what Pepper and Oliver had told her, she knew things had happened while she was in surgery and recovering, things that neither of them wanted to come out and tell her.  She guessed her father had lost his cool and taken his fear and worry and anger out on Oliver, but she wasn’t sure.  That made her nervous for how today was going to go.  Especially since Felicity’s doctors had come to a final, irrevocable opinion on her injuries.  

She was never going to walk again.  

Just thinking about it made her feel so much.  She felt overwhelmed--so overwhelmed, she couldn’t put it into words to tell Oliver, or Caitlin, or anyone.  She was so angry she would miss out on so much, like dancing with her father at her wedding and running up to Oliver and playing laser tag with Franklin and Kitty and her other friends.  She was ashamed she had never taken advantage of everything her body could do and had been so lazy.  She was scared to death that one day, Oliver would get tired of having to help her, tired of not having the kind of sex they had enjoyed so much, tired of always protecting her.  

Worst of all, she ached at the thought of someday having a child that she wouldn’t be able to protect in every way possible.  Without the ability to walk, to run, how could she bring a baby into the scary, violent, amazing world in which she lived?  A world where she was the daughter and wife of superheroes, a world where her child would be a target, just like Felicity was?  

If she wasn’t physically capable of saving her child from the evil things in the world, was she capable of being a mother at all?  

“Felicity.  Hey, Felicity--”  

Gasping, Felicity looked up at Oliver.  His face looked a bit pained, and she suddenly realized she was clenching her hands around his so tightly, her fingers were white.  She let go, wincing at the pain in her hands, and looked up at him, trying not to cry.  Because she couldn’t ruin her makeup and she didn’t want her parents to see her in tears and if she started crying, she might never stop.  

“Felicity,” Oliver said, reaching out to cup her face in his hands.  But she couldn’t--he couldn’t touch her.  Not right now.  She moved her chair back out of his reach and quickly wiped at her eyes. 

“I’m fine--I’m okay,” she told him quickly.  “How’s the quiche looking?  Is there anything I can do?  I can still chop fruit, you know.  I’m still the best fruit salad maker on the West Coast, right?”

She just . . . she needed things to be normal.  Even if nothing was normal and would never be normal again.  

Oliver gazed at her, still crouched down in front of her like he had started doing ever since she had become stuck in this chair.  He opened his mouth, then closed it, and she hoped with all her heart that he would understand.  That he wouldn’t ask her if she needed a pain pill (she did but she wouldn’t take one and risk more hallucinations) or if she wanted to cancel her parents’ visit (no but also yes) or if she wanted to talk (please, don’t ask her to talk).  

“You are still the best fruit salad maker on the West Coast,” he said, his voice breaking a little.  His eyes were glassy, too, but he put on a smile as he looked at her.  “And a fruit salad is just what we need to finish off brunch.”  

Taking a deep breath, Felicity nodded.  “Okay.  Okay, I’m on it.”  She maneuvered her chair towards the fridge as Oliver stood up and did something with the quiche, but not before he rubbed his hand over his eyes.  

There were blueberries and grapes and pineapple in the fridge.  Felicity piled the containers into her lap and moved over to the table--a new one that Oliver had installed in the kitchen, as a workspace for her.  She put the fruit on the table, then moved to get a bowl, a cutting board and a knife.  She could feel Oliver’s eyes on her, but he didn’t say anything.  

In the quiet, only broken by the sound of the knife cutting through the fruit and the pieces hitting the bowl, the clink of the spoon stirring the fresh-squeezed orange juice and the plates and silverware being laid on the dining room table, Felicity felt herself calming down.  Felt her emotions smoothing out, letting her push aside all her worries and just focus on how good it would be to see her parents.  

When the doorbell rang, Felicity actually meant it when she smiled.  “I’ve got it,” she told Oliver, pushing back from the table and heading towards the door.  As she approached it, D.A.V.I.S. activated the monitor by the door, now angled so she could see it, revealing her parents standing on the other side of the door, a half foot of space between them.  

Fumbling a little with the doorknob, Felicity pulled the door open and smiled up at them.  “Hey, Mom and Dad.”  

“Felicity,” Pepper said, immediately stepping forward and bending down to hug her.  Her mother’s arms felt bonier than normal, but she hugged Felicity as tightly as she always did.  And she still smelled the same: freesia and citrus and tea.  Felicity rubbed Pepper’s back and looked up at her dad, smiling a little.  

“Hey, princess,” he said tightly.  Tony reached out and brushed his hand over her hair.  

“Hi, Dad,” she said, smiling up at him.  Pepper pulled back reluctantly, straightening up and standing beside Tony.  Felicity edged her wheelchair back, then turned back and forth in it to show it off.  “What do you think?  Or should I trade this in for something like Professor Xavier’s hoverchair?”  

Tony snorted.  “Like I couldn’t design you something a thousand times better than that piece of junk,” he said, making Pepper laugh a little.  

Felicity smiled, feeling herself relax.  “We can talk more about that later, but right now, I bet you’re starving.  Oliver made quiche.”  

Turning around, Felicity wheeled herself into the kitchen, feeling pleased that she could show how far she had come from the hospital.  

“Oliver, everything smells wonderful,” Pepper said as she followed Felicity into the kitchen.  She kissed his cheek and looked at Tony, who stole a blueberry from the fruit salad and nodded when his mouth was full.  

“Dad,” Felicity said, rolling her eyes at him.

“No, your father is just trying to be polite and not talk with his mouth full,” Pepper said dryly.  “Oliver, is that orange juice?”

Oliver smiled and nodded.  “Yes, fresh squeezed.  There’s champagne if you want to make it a mimosa.”

“Please and thank you,” Pepper said, following Oliver’s nonverbal instructions to retrieve the champagne.  “Anyone else?”  

Felicity thought for a moment, then raised her hand.  “Just make mine weak,” she said, thinking about her pain pills.  

“You got it,” Pepper said, pouring a splash of champagne into one glass and considerably more than a splash in the other.  

“Got any vodka, Oliver?” Tony asked, his eyes fixed on Felicity’s fiancé.  

There was something in her dad’s voice that made Felicity’s senses go on red alert.  Especially when her mother rolled her eyes and muttered as she lifted her glass, “Just what we need.”  

“Um . . . yes,” Oliver said, his eyes flicking between Tony, Pepper and Felicity.  He turned and opened the freezer, taking out a bottle and handing it to Tony.

Her father eyed the bottle and nodded.  “Knew you’d have the good stuff, what with being in the Bratva.”  

Oliver froze and Felicity felt like swearing.  “I’m not officially in the Bratva any longer,” Oliver said quietly after a moment.  “But you know that.  Tony, I don’t want to fight with you--”  

“Who’s fighting?” Tony asked as he poured a healthy measure of vodka into his glass.  He topped it off with some orange juice and took a sip, eyeing Oliver over the rim of the glass.  “I’m just making conversation.”  

“Tony, don’t do this,” Pepper warned.  Her hand went to her necklace--a necklace Pepper had worn off and on as long as Felicity could remember--her thin delicate fingers wrapping around the heart-shaped pendant and gripping it tightly.  

“Why not?” Tony asked, banging his glass down on the island.  “Why shouldn’t I remind our daughter’s fiancé of the awful things he’s done, the things that have put our daughter--”  

He broke off, looking down, and Pepper turned around and looked at Felicity.  “The bathroom’s still in the same place?” Pepper asked.  Felicity realized she was trying to sound unruffled, but Felicity knew how her mother was.  She knew Pepper would never break down in public, in front of people.  

Sadly, Felicity nodded and pointed towards the bathroom.  Pepper walked away, her back very straight, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors in the silence that had descended.  

Tony suddenly picked up his glass and stalked out onto the balcony, leaving Felicity and Oliver alone.  Felicity looked at Oliver, then moved closer to him and took his hand.  “It’s not your fault,” she told him.  “My father’s wrong.”  

His head was hanging low, but Oliver squeezed her hand.  “I know,” he said softly.  “Why don’t you go talk to him?  I’ll take care of your mom when she comes out of the bathroom.”  

Felicity tugged on his hand so he would lean down enough for her to kiss him.  “Okay.  Don’t eat without us, okay?”  

That made Oliver smile, which was what she was trying to do.  Then, reluctantly letting go of his hand, Felicity wheeled herself out onto the balcony.  She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh, cool air.  It was a sunny day, but it was still February in Star City.  Yet it was the first time she had been outside in so long, she couldn’t help taking a moment to just enjoy the wind on her skin and fill her lungs with air that wasn’t stale and recycled.  

Then she looked over at her father, who was leaning on the balcony, sipping his drink and staring out at the view.  

“You can drop the innocent act,” she told him as she moved closer.  Because she had an idea why he was acting like this, and while she could understand what he had done and knew his heart was in the right place, she couldn’t let him do this.  Not if her guess was right.  So she went ahead and accused him of doing what she would have done if their positions were reversed.  “Do you think I don’t know what you’ve done?  You hacked my medical records.”

Which meant he knew about her permanent paralysis and was blaming Oliver for it.  

Tony huffed out a breath and glanced over at her.  “You’re too smart for your own good.  What makes you think anything is going on, beyond seeing you in a wheelchair?”  

“I am too smart for my own good--just like my father.  I know what I’d do if the tables were turned,” Felicity replied quietly.  “So that’s how I know you know the truth.  You’re never going to see me out of this wheelchair.”  

It was one of the hardest things Felicity had ever done: watching her father cope with a challenge that he couldn’t fix, that he couldn’t repair.  She pressed her lips together, his pain increasing her own, until she just had to say something.  All she wanted was to make that sad, haunted, scared look leave his eyes.  

She wheeled forward and took his hand.  “It could have been so much worse, Dad.  And I know you blame Oliver, but we both know that’s not whose fault it is.  It’s because of Damian Darhk that I’m in this chair, and we are going to take him down--Oliver and me and our team.  He’s not going to hurt anyone else.”  

“You never wanted this.  You never wanted to be on the front lines--it shouldn’t have happened to you,” Tony argued weakly.  

“So who should it have happened to, Dad?  Oliver?  Digg?  What if Rob had been paralyzed protecting me, or if it had been Thea or Mom or, God, you?  Do you think that would make this any easier to deal with?” Felicity argued, glaring at him.  “When I decided to start helping Oliver, I knew the risks I was taking.  More than anyone, I knew.  And I cannot have you eating yourself up over this--just like I can’t let Oliver or Mom or anyone feel guilty for something they wish had never happened to me.”  

Deep down, Felicity wondered why she was arguing so hard with Tony over this.  Because . . . in that dark, hidden place inside her, there was a knot of feelings that were too complex to work out, feelings that told her she wasn’t nearly as strong as she was acting, wasn’t nearly as resolved to her situation as she was making herself out to be.  But Felicity ignored that problem, shoving it down along with all the other things she refused to think about, in order to try and get through to her father.  

“I know all of you would have taken this burden from me if you could have,” Felicity whispered.  “But this is my burden to carry, and if that means Damian Darhk is defeated, and you can go save the world with the Avengers, and everyone I care about is okay . . . then I’ll have to find a way to carry it.”  

“You can’t just give up like this, princess,” Tony said, squeezing her hand.  “There’s gotta be a way for you to walk again.  I--I should call Bruce.  And Reed.  Hell, I’ll even call that crackhole Stephen Strange, but--but you are not gonna be in that chair forever, you hear me?  I need you to fight while you’re carrying that burden, which, by the way, you’re not carrying alone.  Not as long as I’m around.”  

Through the tears in her eyes, she smiled up at Tony.  “Okay, Dad.  I promise.  But if you start picking fights with Oliver, all bets are off, you got me?”  

Tony sighed but nodded.  “I got you.”  

“Good,” she said.  “Now, c’mon, I’m hungry and Oliver’s quiche is to die for.”  

She tried to turn her wheelchair around, but the balcony was too narrow for her to do that.  With a sigh, she dropped her hands into her lap and looked up at Tony.  “A little help?”

“You got it, princess,” Tony said, moving around her to pull her back into the loft.  “Definitely could improve the turning radius on this.  Maybe install a jetpack so you could just fly over obstacles.”  

Felicity couldn’t help laughing.  “Have to make it better than Professor Xavier’s, right?”  

“You bet your ass,” Tony said with a grin as he pushed her inside.

XXX

“Welcome back, Miss Stark!”  

“Good to see you, Felicity!” 

“Now we can start getting back to normal!”  

As she moved through the employees crowding the lobby of SI’s headquarters in Star City, Felicity smiled and nodded and accepted handshakes, all while trying to get past them and get onto the elevator so she could be alone.  So she could breathe.  

This was all too much.  It was too soon--she shouldn’t have come back to work, she should have stayed home, she was trying to do too much.  She should have listened to her doctors and Oliver and her parents, everyone who had encouraged her to take some extra time, to go slow.  

She hadn’t listened and now she was paying the price.  

Once she was by herself, in the elevator rising towards the top floor of the building . . . she still couldn’t breathe, though.  Felicity felt like a gorilla was sitting on her chest.  She gripped the armrests on her chair, trying to pull herself together.  She panted, sharp short little breaths, her eyes squeezed shut, willing herself to get past whatever was making her heart race and her forehead bead with sweat. 

It felt like it lasted an hour, but Felicity knew it was only a minute.  The tension loosened, leaving her as limp as a rag doll.  She opened her eyes, wincing at the too-bright lights in the elevator, and just stared into space as her brain, for once, was blissfully quiet.

When the elevator dinged, indicating she was at her floor, it took all her energy to straighten up and wheel herself out.  As she rolled down the hallway, she squinted as she approached a tall, gangly African-American man, waiting just outside the entrance of her office.  

When he spotted her, he grinned widely.  “Miss Stark!  It’s great to see you.”  

His name was on the tip of her tongue . . . then she remembered.  “Curtis,” she said, smiling up at him.  “Hi.”  

Curtis Holt was a Renaissance man: Olympic bronze medalist, nerd, and a gifted engineer in the Applied Sciences Division.  Stark Industries had stolen him away from Palmer Technologies and expected great things, although so far he had been a bit of a slow starter, according to the head of the division.  

Normally, Felicity didn’t get to spend much time with the engineers in the various divisions, which was something she was always trying to fix.  If SI was going to remain competitive, it came down to their staff feeling valued, to everyone making contributions to the company.  The best ideas often came from lower-level employees, people who were just out of school and had ambitious, daring concepts that weren’t always appreciated by their supervisors.  

Maybe it was time Felicity made those interactions with the front-line employees a priority--starting now.  If nothing else, she needed something to get herself out of her head.  So she put on a smile and asked Curtis, who was blocking the door to her office, “What can I do for you, Curtis?”  

“The better question is what can I do for you.  Kinda like how JFK said, ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,’ and then we got the Peace Corps out of it, which was pretty awesome, I think we can both agree,” Curtis said, a big smile on his face. 

“Except for all the needles,” Felicity said without thinking.  Curtis looked at her, his face confused, and Felicity waved a hand in the air.  “All the needles that a Peace Corps volunteer faced, because you go to places like Africa and you have to get all these shots?  I have a thing about needles.”  

“Ahhh,” Curtis said.  “Right.  Well, I have something I wanted to share with you, Miss Stark, if you had a minute--”

A throat cleared from behind Curtis, then a voice piped up.  “If you want to talk to Miss Stark, why don’t you let her come into her office so she can check her schedule?”  

Felicity had to smile at the bossy tone Gerry, her faithful assistant, had adopted.  Meanwhile, Curtis was spluttering, torn between turning around to apologize to Gerry, turning back to apologize to Felicity, and getting out of her way.  

“It’s okay, Curtis,” Felicity said, which made Curtis finally step back into the office enough for her to get inside.  She smiled at Gerry and said, “Let me talk with Curtis for five minutes, and then we’ll get back on schedule, Gerry.  Thank you.”  

“Of course, Miss Stark,” Gerry said, eyeing Curtis a bit disdainfully--but also with interest.  

Felicity wheeled into her private office, glancing back and gesturing at Curtis to follow her.  He hesitated, then hurried to catch up as she moved behind her desk, the office having been reconfigured for her while she was gone.  “Okay, Curtis, how do you want to help me?” she asked as he took a seat in front of her.  

“Yes, well, I had this idea, something I had just been tinkering with--and then we all heard about what had happened to you, Miss Stark, and, well--”  Curtis looked at her, his eyes filled with kindness.  “My husband is a physical therapist, so I knew . . . I knew things didn’t look good for you.  Then I remembered this idea, the one I had been tinkering with, and I started wondering--well, more I went beyond tinkering into full-on working nonstop.  And, well--I’ve done it.”  

Nodding slowly, Felicity took him in.  He was practically buzzing with excitement, which was great--she loved seeing employees excited about their work.  But . . . 

“That’s great, Curtis, but . . . what have you done?”

He stared at her for a moment, then started scrambling for something in his pocket.  “Oh!  Right, you don’t know.  I’ve designed a bio-stimulant implant.  See, your nervous system, it’s like a big old electrical system for your body, but right now, some of the circuits in your body are broken because of, you know, your spinal cord injury.”  

Leaning closer to her, Curtis placed a box on her desk and opened it.  “But with this chip, implanted in your spine . . . the circuits won’t be broken anymore.  Your brain would be able to  send signals to your feet so--”

“So I could walk again?” she asked breathlessly, staring at the small chip laying inside a foam enclosure.  

“That’s the idea,” Curtis said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring.  “It’s all theoretical, but--but I think it should work.  And . . . and I figured, what did we have to lose by trying?”  

Felicity leaned forward, unable to look at anything but the chip.  Because . . . with that little piece of technology, she could walk again.  She could have the life she thought was gone.  She could walk down the aisle at her wedding.  She could have a baby and be able to protect it.  She wouldn’t lose anything--she wouldn’t lose everything.  

All thanks to a tiny little chip.  

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to Curtis, who smiled at her nervously.  “I know it’s probably a big overstep, Miss Stark, but--but I just wanted to help, and I know it’s really huge--a huge risk, but--”

“Curtis,” Felicity said, holding a hand up, before she smiled at him.  “Thank you.”  

He breathed out, his shoulders slumping in a cartoon-like expression of relief.  Felicity smiled a bit wider, but her eyes were drawn back to the chip.  With trembling fingers, she reached out and touched a fingertip to the foam surrounding the chip.  

This could change everything.

End, Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the great response to the first chapter! In this chapter we will see the starting of the Civil War events, but not before Felicity and Oliver have a very interesting conversation among other developments. Hope you enjoy!

 

As she woke up, Felicity thought that she would be very happy to never spend another day in a hospital ever again.  It was an opinion she had formed when both she and Oliver had needed medical attention after the defeat of Malcolm Merlyn.  When she had been in the hospital after Damian Darhk’s attack, there had been days when she thought she might never get to leave.  So the thought of willingly entering a hospital again had been enough to make her shudder.

Yet this stay wasn’t about fear.  It was about hope.  After weeks of work with Curtis on the bio-stimulant implant, after consulting with Stephen Strange and Bruce Banner and getting their cautious support, after convincing the doctors in Star City she was so willing to take the risk she voluntarily paid a million dollars as bond that she wouldn’t sue for malpractice . . . Felicity had entered the hospital for the operation to implant the chip. 

Her doctors and Curtis had speculated it would take some time for the chip to begin working; there would be swelling in the immediate aftermath of the operation, and the chip would need time to map her neural pathways and provide the correct level of stimulus.  When they had explained that to Felicity, she had nodded in acceptance.  Now that she knew the chip was implanted in her spine, though, Felicity was finding it hard to be patient.  Even though it had only been hours since the operation had concluded.

The door to her room opened slowly and quietly.  Felicity smiled when she saw Oliver.  “Hey,” she croaked, her voice scratchy with the lingering effects of the anesthesia. 

“You're awake!” Oliver said, rushing to her bed.  “How do you feel?  Any discomfort or pain?  How long have you been up?  Digg made me shower, otherwise I would have been here.”

“As much as I find you attractive in any condition, I'm okay with you not being here because of a shower,” Felicity told him, starting to cough from her sore throat. 

“Don't talk.  Save your strength,” Oliver said, lifting a cup and maneuvering the straw between her lips.  “Small sips, baby.”

Felicity did as instructed, then rested her head against the pillows.  “Like talking would tire me out.  Have you met me?”

As she hoped, her comeback made Oliver smile.  “I have.  And then some,” he said, lifting up her left hand.  He pressed a gentle kiss to her palm, then reached into the pocket of his jeans.  Felicity smiled when he pulled out her engagement ring.  She had given it to him for safekeeping before the surgery. 

“Now I feel like myself again,” she sighed as he slipped the ring back onto her finger. 

“Me, too,” Oliver said, holding her hand in both of his.  His calloused fingers gently stroked her hand.  “Don't think I didn't notice how you didn't answer my question.  How do you feel?”

Felicity blew out a breath.  “Physically, okay.  About the same.  Nothing’s happening downstairs yet.  It's just a matter of time, I know, but . . .”

“You want to know if the chip is going to work,” Oliver said softly. 

Nodding, Felicity swallowed as she felt tears threaten.  “I didn't think it would be a big deal to wait, after all the time it took to make sure the chip was safe and could actually maybe let me walk again.  But now that it's inside of me--I just want it to work, now.  I--I want--”  Her voice cracked, her body starting to tremble.  “I want to be whole again.”

She gave up the fight against the tears and let them roll down her cheeks.  Oliver let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her tightly.  Pressed against his warm, solid chest, Felicity sobbed.  It was weak and pitiful, but she just couldn't hold back any longer. 

“Shh,” Oliver whispered in her ear.  He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her temple, then repeated his soft shushing.  “Shh.  You are whole, even if the implant never works.  You're so brave, baby--I love you so much--shh, Felicity, shh.”

After that, she was crying so much, she couldn’t hear anything else he said.  All she could do was hold on to Oliver, as hard as she could, feeling him rock her like a baby.  

Slowly, the tears came to an end, leaving Felicity feeling wrung out.  Exhausted like she had never felt before.  And embarrassed.  

Everything that Oliver had experienced hadn’t broken him.  Not like this had broken her.  Here she was, blubbering all over him when she was on the verge of getting her life back.  She just had to be patient and positive.  

With hesitation, she looked up at Oliver.  She knew she wouldn’t see judgement or belittlement in his eyes, which in some ways made it harder to look at him.  She deserved judgement.  

All she saw, though, was love.  He gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear.  “Better?”  

“I--”  Her voice broke and Felicity swallowed.  Oliver lifted the plastic cup of water to her lips and she sipped it, giving herself an extra moment.  Then, her throat feeling less raw, she nodded a little.  “I don’t know if ‘better’ is the right question, but . . . I think I’ll get there.”  

Oliver nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.  “That’s all that matters.  Getting there.”

She knew he meant it with all his heart.  She knew it was true.  Yet that didn’t make her feel any less patronized.  Through this whole experience, everyone had fallen into that trap.  Some more than others--but Oliver had avoided it, until now.  She didn’t know what that meant.  If Oliver was just humoring her, trying to make her feel better, or if she was just being paranoid and oversensitive.  

“Would you mind finding Dr. Chowdhury and asking when I can get sprung?” Felicity requested, reaching out to stroke Oliver’s arm.  Needing to know that no matter what, he was still here with her.  That what she was feeling was all in her head.  

“Of course,”  he replied, leaning in to lightly kiss her.  “I’ll be right back.  You, rest.  I mean it.”  

Felicity gave him a little salute.  “Yes, sir.”  

He shook his head, giving her a small smile as he stood up.  “If Digg was here, he’d tell you sass like that would have gotten you discharged.”  

“Good thing I never joined the military, then,” Felicity said, keeping the smile on her face until he stepped out.  Pressing her lips together, she pushed herself up into more of a sitting position, then took the sheets and blanket in her hand.  Using all her newfound upper body strength, she threw the covers to the end of the bed.  Her hospital gown left her legs revealed from lower thigh to toe.  

She stared at her legs, willing them to move.  For a toe to curl, a foot to flex, a knee to bend.  Wanting her miracle to happen now, so she could show her doctors she had been right.  To prove to Oliver she was as strong and brave as he seemed to think she was.  

The longer she stared, the more she wanted it.  The more the anger rose in her at what had happened to her, at the dumbness of her legs.  Without conscious thought, she flailed out, knocking the plastic cup clear off the table and against the wall.  Then, Felicity flopped down and turned herself onto her side, closing her eyes and fighting the tears once again.  

XXX

“Caitlin, the chip is never gonna work.  This is taking too long!”  

There was a soft sigh from the other end of the phone.  “Felicity, it’s only been two weeks.  The swelling is probably reduced by now, but you know there’s still a lot that needs to happen before the chip will work.”  

Felicity grimaced as she slumped in her wheelchair.  “Or my legs are just super dumb.”  

“Hey, none of that,” Caitlin chided her gently.  “Your outlook determines your outcome, remember?”  

Ever since the final diagnosis, Caitlin had been positive Felicity would prove the doctors wrong and would someday walk again.  When Curtis had presented her with the chip, Felicity had called Caitlin first--even before Bruce.  Now that Caitlin had moved into medical research, after her marriage to Ronnie and becoming pregnant, she was the best person to give Felicity the news of whether the chip might actually work.  

When Caitlin had been enthusiastic about the chip, Felicity’s hopes had really risen to the giddy heights she had avoided up to that point.  Caitlin was naturally cautious and methodical, so her opinion really mattered to Felicity.  Plus, Caitlin’s support had gone a long way to reassure Oliver, Felicity’s parents, and even her doctors.

Best of all, Caitlin had been willing to listen to all of Felicity’s whining.  Like what she was doing right now.

“I know, but . . . it just feels like maybe I’ve gotten my hopes up,” Felicity admitted.  “What if the chip doesn’t work?”  

“It’s way too soon to throw in the towel,” Caitlin encouraged her.  “You haven’t even started physical therapy, either.”  

“Yeah,” Felicity said, gazing out the window.  “I just really want to walk down the aisle at my wedding.  Even if I then have to sit in the chair, I want to do that.”  

There was a long moment of silence, one that was heavy with emotion.  Felicity suddenly felt embarrassed.  Like she could hear Caitlin’s pity through the cell phone towers.  “Never mind.  If I can walk on my wedding day, that would be great.  But all that matters is I’m going to marry Oliver and we’re going to be happy,” Felicity said in a rush.  

“You’re exactly right,” Caitlin chirped.  “You’re here to marry Oliver.  I’m not going to lie--when I heard what happened, I was worried.  Scared that you and Oliver had waited too long, that you might not be able to make it.”  

“Me, too,” Felicity said softly, wrapping her free arm around herself.  “This is a second chance.  So we’re going to make sure the wedding happens this time.  For better or for worse.”  

A beeping drowned out Caitlin for a moment, and Felicity said, “Sorry, Cait, can you hold on a sec?  I’ve got another call.”  

Checking the caller ID, Felicity smiled and switched to the other call.  “I thought if you called during your Manly Men Gathering, you have to buy the next round and an appetizer,” she said to Oliver.  

Once a month, Oliver got together with Tommy, Digg, and Roy to do whatever men did together.  Which mostly seemed to be drink beer and annoy each other.  It was as sacrosanct as Felicity and Oliver’s weekly date night, down to the rule of no calling a significant other during the night unless the man in question was prepared to suffer the consequences.

“I think I can handle three beers and a plate of nachos,” Oliver said.  “I’m not that broke, even with Queen Consolidated being in the shape it’s in.”  

“You could always merge with Stark Industries,” Felicity offered, as she normally did when Oliver talked about his family’s company.  

“That’s a conversation for another time,” he said, just like usual.  “I was just calling to make sure you were okay.  You seemed a little down.”

Since there was plenty of research that showed people could tell if you were smiling just from the sound of your voice, Felicity pasted a smile on her face.  “I’m fine.  I’m talking to Caitlin on the other line, though . . .”

Oliver let out a chuckle.  “Say no more.  Tell her I said hi, and that she and Ronnie should come up and visit us sometime soon.  You two can talk wedding stuff.”

“Okay, I’ll see,” Felicity replied.  “I love you.”  

She could almost see the smile she knew was on Oliver’s face when he said, “I love you, too.”

It put a smile on her face--a real one--as she switched back to Caitlin.  “Hi, that was Oliver.”  

“You sound in better spirits,” Caitlin observed.  

“I love him so much,” Felicity said softly.  “I know he always thinks he’s broken and damaged, but . . . his heart is so pure.  I can’t believe some days that he loves me.”

“That’s the crazy thing about love,” Caitlin replied, her voice warm and loving.  “It always feels like magic.”  

Nodding, Felicity relaxed against her chair.  “Oliver suggested that you and Ronnie come up to visit.  It’s been a while since you’ve been in Star City--you should see the changes Oliver is making here.  As a mayoral candidate and as the Green Arrow.”  

“I’ll talk to Ronnie about it.  He does love hanging out with Oliver to do all kinds of man stuff.”

Felicity laughed.  “Maybe we can coordinate it with the Manly Men Meeting Oliver has every month, so Ronnie could get the full experience.  And after all, there’s always the bachelor party.  Given that Tommy’s planning it, it’s sure to be something else.”  

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world.  That reminds me, we’ve got your bachelorette party to start planning, too,” Caitlin said, her voice sounding positively devilish.  “Thea and I have already been brainstorming.”  

“Behind my back?  You sneaky things,” Felicity said with a grin.  

“Thea’s the sneaky one, not me.  You know how I am,” Caitlin said.  There was a pause, then Caitlin said regretfully, “Felicity?  I have to get going.”  

Trying to hold back a sigh at the thought of ending the call, Felicity nodded.  “Okay.  Let me know if you guys can come visit.”  

“You got it,” Caitlin promised.  “I’ll call you soon.”  

“Bye,” Felicity said, hearing Caitlin’s goodbye before slowly lowering the phone and pressing the End button.  She let out a sigh, looking around the loft.  

“So what am I gonna do now?” she asked out loud.  Because . . . she felt at loose ends.  Which shouldn’t be the case.  She hadn’t talked to her parents lately and could give them a call.  There was always work to get caught up on, thanks to all her time away from the office.  Or she could do some work for the team, researching Damian Darhk and remotely working on the lair’s computers.  She could do more wedding planning, or shocker of shockers, do something fun like going through the stack of  _ Wired _ magazines sitting by her side of the bed, watching some of the shows piling up on the DVR, or tinker with D.A.V.I.S.

None of that appealed to her, though.  She found herself looking down at her legs, wondering when they would start to work again.  Like a watched pot never boiling, though, it seemed that no matter how much she stared at her legs, they wouldn’t move.  

Sighing even more heavily than before, Felicity wheeled herself towards her office and began listlessly going through her work email account.  At least she could do some triage on her inbox before she headed into work tomorrow.

XXX

When she came downstairs the next morning, dressed for the office in her favorite dress, Felicity could see Oliver wasn’t expecting to see her like this.  His eyes flicked up and down her body, then he frowned a little.  “You’re going to the office?”

Felicity shrugged.  “Might as well.  I’m going stir-crazy here, wondering if the chip is going to start working.  At least at SI, I’ll have plenty of things to keep my mind off my legs.”  

“I suppose,” Oliver said, pouring her a cup of coffee and handing it to her.  “You must be worrying about the company, too.”  

“Yeah, a little,” Felicity admitted, wrapping her hands around the mug.  “Although I’ll never worry as much as I did when I first moved here, when nothing seemed to be going right.”  

Oliver crouched down in front of her.  “Hey.  I know what the last few months have been like, but you know I’m here for you, right?” 

She stared at him.  “Um, yes?”  

“I just want to make sure you know that,” Oliver said, reaching out to rest his hand on her knee.  A touch she didn’t feel.  She couldn’t feel the warmth of his hand, or his callouses against his skin, or how the weight of his hand seemed to ground her and make her safe.  

And once again, she found herself cursing Damian Darhk, with all the darkness and bitterness and anger in her soul.  

“I know that,” she said firmly, looking right into Oliver’s eyes.  “You don’t have to worry--I don’t think you’re going to run out on me.”  

He still looked unsettled.  “I just . . . I wondered if you had reservations, and that was why you didn’t want to work with the team anymore.”  

So this was happening now.  Felicity had wondered how long he would wait to ask her to reconsider her decision to step down from the team.  At first, it had simply been a matter of her not being physically capable of being in the lair, with its multiple levels and stairs, not to mention sitting in the drafty surroundings for hours on end.  As she had recovered, though, she had realized that the attack had taken more than her ability to walk.  

When she had been behind her computers, helping Oliver coordinate his work as the Green Arrow, directing him and the rest of the team in the field, she had felt powerful, in-control, essential.  Now when she thought about doing that, when she thought about the possibility of making a mistake and losing any of these people who were incredibly important to her . . . 

Her whole brain locked up.  She froze and couldn’t move.  Which was ironic at a level Felicity couldn’t even begin to describe.  

Felicity wouldn’t be responsible for killing her fiancé, her fiancé’s sister, the boyfriend of said fiancé’s sister, or the best friend/quasi-brother of her fiancé.  She couldn’t listen to Oliver or Thea or Roy or Digg die over the comms due to her mistakes.  Even having the chip in her spine hadn’t changed her mind enough to make her feel like she could come back.  

“Oliver,” she said slowly, reaching up to put her coffee mug on the counter, “you saw what happened when I tried to help.  I failed miserably--I nearly got Digg killed.”  

“It wasn’t that dire,” Oliver protested gently.  “And I admit, you had told me it was too soon and I pushed you.  I thought if you just got back in the lair, you would feel better.  Like things were getting back to normal.  I was wrong then.  But it’s been nearly two months since then.  You’ve come so far, yet . . . I know how much it mattered to you, helping me like that.  A light’s gone out in you since you stopped working with the team.  Now that we know Ruvé Adams is Damian’s wife--now that we have a war on two fronts--we could use you.  If you were thinking you wanted to come back, you know Digg would be more than happy to get back into the field and let the expert take over.”

Shaking her head, her ponytail softly bobbing, Felicity said, “It’s not so simple, Oliver.  I just--I don’t feel like I’m useful now.”  

“We are going to have to agree to disagree on that one, then,” Oliver said, patting her knee.  “You’re absolutely sure?  You could ease your way back in, work with Digg for a few nights so you wouldn’t be alone.”  

Her chest was starting to feel tight.  Like it had that day in the elevator.  Felicity gripped the armrests of her chairs and took a few deep breaths, which Oliver of course noticed.  

“Felicity?  Felicity, breathe, honey,” he said, looking into her eyes and inhaling and exhaling deeply.  

“I know!” she snapped.  Then she closed her eyes, feeling the frustration and anxiety begin to swamp her.  Her hands gripped the armrests so hard, she wondered if she could break the pieces of plastic.  She dimly felt Oliver pick up one of her hands and squeeze it as she tried to breathe out all the bad feelings.  

After a few minutes, Felicity felt the knot loosen in her chest.  She didn’t need to hold on to something in order to prevent herself from flying apart.  Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Oliver, looking worried and contrite.  He tried to hide it by smiling at her, but she could tell.  

“Better now?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand.  

Why did he keep asking her that?  Didn’t he understand she wouldn’t be better until she could walk again?  

It was hard to hold back the words.  Yet she felt too tired to have a fight with him now.  So she just nodded and did her best to smile.  “A little.”  

“I’m sorry.  I did the same thing again--I tried to push you, because I miss having your voice in my ear, I miss coming back and kissing you as the way I push away everything I have to do as the Green Arrow,” Oliver said, his voice rough and raspy.  “But this isn’t about me--it’s about you.  If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.  And if you don’t ever want to come back, I understand.”  

“Really?” she asked in a small voice.  

“Really,” he promised.  “There is always a place on the team if you want it.  But if you don’t, that’s okay.  Nothing changes how I feel about you, about us, about our lives together.”  

Felicity reached out and cupped his face in her hands.  “I love you so much,” she said softly.  “I’m such a mess right now--”  

“Hey, hey, you’re not a mess,” he interrupted, his hands stroking her wrists and forearms.  “With everything you’ve gone through, you’ve shown so much courage, such determination.”  

“Shut up and let me compliment you,” Felicity said, shaking her head and mock glaring at him.  

Oliver smiled and then lifted his hand, miming locking his mouth and throwing away the key.  Such a silly gesture made her giggle softly before leaning in to kiss his lips lightly.  

“You have been my rock through all of this,” Felicity told him, stroking her thumbs against his stubbly cheeks.  “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.  So I understand that you want me to be back in the lair.  Part of me wishes I could come back, too.  I’m just . . . not ready.  But if I change my mind--if I even think about changing my mind, I’m going to let you know.  Right away, I promise.  Okay?”

He nodded slowly, a soft smile quirking his lips.  “Okay.  I won’t ask again.”  

Leaning in, Felicity kissed him again, softer and slower than before.  Oliver responded, just like he always did, like he had before she was in the wheelchair, making her heart flutter with happiness and joy and arousal.  

“Mmm . . . Oliver,” she moaned against his lips.  

With a soft groan, he pulled away.  “I really wish we could keep going,” he said, regret tinging his voice.  “But I have a full day of work with the first debate coming up.”  

“Against Ruvé Adams,” Felicity said, wrinkling her nose.  “Ugh, I can’t believe Damian’s wife is running against you now.  You really need to win the election.”  

“I’m doing my best.  Thus, the full day of work,” Oliver said, rising to his feet.  She saw the grimace flash across his face and knew it must be his bad knee bothering him, the one Roy had smashed while hopped up on Mirakuru two years ago.  

Reaching up, Felicity smoothed down his lapels.  “You know, another reason to win the election is you might get to think, you know, about . . .”  She let her voice trail off, focusing on her hand touching his jacket instead of looking at his face, as she considered whether she should break the rule of a lifetime.  

“What?” he said in a soft, strained voice.  

Felicity slowly lifted her eyes to his face.  “If maybe it’s time for you to hang up the hood.”  

A myriad of emotions swirled in his eyes.  “Have you thought about that?” he asked, giving the impression he was asking a question no more important than whether she wanted a ham sandwich or a turkey club for lunch.  Yet the way he held himself, so tense and rigid under her hand, how his shoulders were one hard line, his jaw set and his teeth clenched, told her how much the question mattered.  

“I would be lying if I said no,” she replied honestly.  “And it would be a lie if it wasn’t something I had thought about multiple times.  Starting after the Undertaking.  And the question has only gotten asked more and more often, the more we’ve gotten to know about Damian Darhk.”  

“Why haven’t you ever said anything?” Oliver asked, staring at her.  “You’ve never even hinted you think I should stop.”  

“Oliver,” she said, giving him a look.  “You are not the first hero I’ve known--or the first hero I’ve loved.  Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to ask my dad, or Steve, or Natasha or Bucky to stop?  Hundreds of times.  Yet each and every time, I didn’t.  Because it’s not my choice.  And if I asked, it wouldn’t be fair.”  

His eyebrows drew together.  “But . . . you’re asking me now.”  

“No, no no no no no,” she rushed to deny.  “I’m not asking you to stop.  I’m asking if you have considered whether becoming mayor would let you fulfill the promises you made to your father, if getting to save Star City in the daylight would satisfy you more than saving it in the dark.”  

“Semantics, Felicity,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

She blew out a breath.  “Okay, yeah,” she agreed.  “It is semantics.  And believe me, I kinda hate myself for asking.  But, Oliver . . . look at me,” she said, moving herself back from him a little.  “I’m in a wheelchair.  Damian kidnapped me, John and Thea at Christmas.  He’s put everything we hold dear at risk.  Maybe--maybe when you defeat him, and you win the election, it’ll be time.”  

“That’s a lot of ifs, Felicity,” he said, his fingers rubbing together in that nervous tic she hated.  She hated being the one to make him nervous like that.  

Wheeling forward, she took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his own.  “When, not if,” she reminded him.  “And It’s nothing that has to be decided now.  And just like you support me never coming back to the team, I support you continuing as Green Arrow.  But there’s no shame in choosing something else.  Even my dad took a break from Iron Man when he was Secretary of Defense.”  

“That . . . isn’t the best example you could use right there,” Oliver said, raising his eyebrows.  “The Latverian ambassador would certainly agree.”  

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “First off, siding with the Latverian ambassador?  Not exactly giving yourself a leg to stand on.  And it was because of Wanda that Dad told off the ambassador and started that international incident, and it wasn’t Wanda’s fault she manipulated Dad--she was being manipulated herself.”  

Her fiancé, so practical and  _ such  _ a Muggle, even with being a classic Hufflepuff, looked up towards the ceiling.  “I hate magic.”

“I’m coming around to your way of thinking,” Felicity conceded before squeezing his hand.  “Just . . . think about what I’m saying?”    

Oliver looked at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded.  “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s all I ask.  Now, we both need to get going, so how about you pour me some coffee in a travel mug and we get Digg to take us through a drive-through on the way to SI?”

“You’d be better off with an egg-white scramble,” Oliver groused slightly.  “But you have to have breakfast and there isn’t time to make anything now, so yeah, let’s do that.”  

Smiling at how predictable he was when it came to her eating habits, Felicity reached out and plucked a banana from the bunch sitting on the counter.  “How about if I have this, too?”  

That made Oliver laugh as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.  “Better.  But tonight, I’m cooking you something good and healthy, and you will eat it without any complaints about how it needs ‘salt’ or ‘fat’ or ‘flavor’.”  

“Mmmm, sounds scrumptious,” Felicity said, crossing her eyes and mock-gagging.  

He rolled his eyes and poured coffee into a travel mug for her.  “All right, let’s go.”  

“D.A.V.I.S., please alert Digg that we’re coming,” Felicity said.  

“Yes, Felicity,” D.A.V.I.S. replied.  “Oliver, if you wish to make the Moroccan chicken and quinoa recipe you clipped yesterday, you will need to purchase saffron, red quinoa, and--”

“I got it, D.A.V.I.S., thank you,” Oliver said, the slight annoyance in his voice making Felicity snort.  

Just another day in the Queen-Stark household, Felicity thought to herself as she went to get her jacket.  Her spirits were strangely buoyant for what she and Oliver and discussed this morning, but it had felt good to finally tell Oliver she was worried about him continuing as the Green Arrow.  Having such a discussion felt good.  Like the kind of talks she had overheard her parents having when they thought she was asleep or wasn’t listening.  They had fought a lot, yes, but Tony and Pepper Stark knew when it was time to stop being angry and start talking.  

This made her feel a step closer to being married to Oliver.  It was four months until their wedding, but she had never felt more like they were already married than right now.  

XXX

Felicity had been right: going to work had definitely kept her mind off her legs.  Off all her problems, in fact.  When she had arrived, she had immediately gotten lost in a world of paperwork, budget meetings, and project proposals.  Gerry had made her stop long enough to eat a salad and a bowl of soup for lunch, but then Felicity had gone back to work, with strict instructions to her assistant to hold all calls and visitors for two hours.  

So when barely an hour had elapsed and Gerry burst into her office, Felicity couldn’t keep the angry tone out of her voice.  “Gerry, I told you--”

“Miss Stark, I apologize, but you’re going to want to see this,” Gerry said, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV in her office, navigating the channel listings and then selecting CNN.  

Her impatience rose as she got ready to ask Gerry just what news story could possibly warrant interrupting her, but then she heard what the news anchor was saying.

“--we are still piecing together this developing story, but it appears that there has been an accident in Lagos, Nigeria, caused by an Avenger,” the anchor said.  “There are reports of multiple fatalities--all civilians.”  

“Oh, God,” Felicity said, staring at the images on the screen.  Smoke pouring out of a white high-rise building, blood staining the skin of the victims, and worst of all, a quick, shaky camera shot of Steve and Wanda, both of them looking guilty and filled with regret.  

For a few moments, she couldn’t do anything but watch as the same images kept repeating, indicating CNN had no other footage, while the anchor kept saying the same thing in different ways.  

“Gerry, give me the remote,” Felicity finally said, trying to shake off her shock.  When her assistant handed it over, she flipped through the other channels, looking for anything more.  When she got nothing more than she had already seen and heard, Felicity tossed the remote aside and turned to her computer.  With her fingers flying over the keyboard, she began finding out more than any news network could tell her.  

Thanks to being the largest city in Africa and a major financial center, there were actually enough security cameras in Lagos to hack for Felicity to develop a picture of the events.  Her blood ran cold when she realized the Avengers--Steve, Wanda, Natasha and Sam--had been chasing down Brock Rumlow, better known as Crossbones.  She knew Steve had wanted to find Crossbones to get information about Bucky’s whereabouts.  Steve had even come to Felicity for help in tracking down the former Winter Soldier, when Bucky had snapped during a mission and reverted back to his former, assassin-y self.  

That had been in the fall, before Darhk had really begun moving against them and before she had ended up in her chair.  Felicity hadn’t had much luck in finding Bucky, but she had been the one to tell Steve it looked like Rumlow was the key to finding him.  Apparently, Steve had been looking for Rumlow ever since.  

“Gerry, please get my father on the phone,” she said distractedly, still working the data.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gerry hurry out to his desk while she hacked into the police dispatch frequency of the local government area where the accident occurred.  Giving thanks that the official language was English and she wouldn’t have to use her translation program, Felicity listened as reports came in from the first responders, revealing more about the events occurring on the ground.  

When she heard that several of the victims were Wakandan, Felicity’s eyes widened.  “Shit,” she said, just as her phone rang.  

Snatching it up, she said, “Yes?”  At Gerry’s voice informing her that he had her father on the line, Felicity snapped, “Put him through!”

The sound of air rushing over metal told Felicity that Tony was in his suit, probably on his way to Lagos.  “What have you got, princess?”

“Dad, among the dead are at least ten Wakandan aid workers.  This is bad,” Felicity told him.

“Shit,” Tony said, echoing the thought that was still going through Felicity’s head.  “What else do you have?”

Quickly putting the call on speaker so she could use both hands to type, Felicity scrolled through the various camera feeds she had accessed.  “It looks like Wanda was trying to contain a bomb detonated by Crossbones, but it overpowered her and she directed it towards a building.”

“A building full of aid workers from the richest, most reclusive country in Africa,” Tony said.  “Fuck, I hate magic.”  

“Oliver said the same thing this morning, and it was even about Wanda,” Felicity said distractedly.  “I suppose you could spin this and say if the bomb had exploded at ground level, the casualty count would be much, much higher.  Including four Avengers, because not even Steve could have survived that.  Although . . .”  

Felicity leaned closer to the screen, trying to get a better look.  What she saw made her mouth hang open in complete and utter shock.  

“Although what?” Tony said, his voice strained.  

“Steve froze,” Felicity replied slowly, not believing what she was seeing.  She rolled the footage back and watched it again.  “Rumlow said something to him, and he totally locked up.  Wanda had to step in and save him and everyone else on the ground.”  

Steve Rogers didn’t freeze up.  So what had Rumlow said to him?  She hoped no one else would realize what had happened--but then, it didn’t really matter, would it?  The blame would always fall on the Avengers for what had happened.  Especially considering the world was still reeling from what had happened in Sokovia two years ago.  And Washington before that, and London before that, and New York before that . . . 

Rubbing her temples, Felicity said, “Dad, I have a bad feeling about this.”  

“Do not go invoking  _ Star Wars _ ,” Tony said.  “We can handle this.  Thanks for the info, but you should get back to your life and let me deal with Steve and the rest of this mess.”  

The dial tone after her father disconnected was very loud.  It took Felicity a moment to reach out with an unsteady hand and hang up the phone.  Then she leaned back in her chair, her fingers fidgeting over the armrests.  

Here she was, so caught up in her own head, in her own problems--and then things like Lagos happened to remind her of just what the stakes were.  Why she was glad she had never wanted to be a hero like her father or Oliver, why she wished Oliver would consider hanging up the hood, why she hated how people she liked, such as Wanda, would be held accountable for what had happened, when in reality she was just a young woman trying to help save the world.  

As much as she wanted to agree with her father and not bring  _ Star Wars _ into this, Felicity couldn’t help it.  Because she really did have a bad feeling about this.

End, Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for an extra helping of angst in this chapter . . . although really, I could say that about all of these first chapters of the fic. But as I break Felicity down, just know that I will be building her back up!

 

It had been a month since her chip was implanted.  She had been back at work for two weeks.  There were already two new projects she had created, tested and signed off on production.  Wedding planning had resumed.  And she had fit in three physical therapy appointments in the last week. 

Yet even with so much going on, all Felicity had been able to think about was when would the implant start working.  It had become something of a singular focus.  She spent boring meetings trying to play This Little Piggy, waiting to see if her toes wiggled.  Instead of staring off into space, she stared down at her legs.  Even though Paul, her very nice physical therapist who happened to be Curtis’s husband, had warned her to not overexert herself, she had found herself doing extra reps of her at-home exercises, almost by accident. 

It was just . . . She needed to be able to walk again.  She needed the chip to work.  She needed her life back. 

With a sigh, Felicity picked up her coffee mug and took a sip as she turned back towards her computers.  She started over on the project proposal she had been trying to read for the last hour, but she had only read two sentences when the intercom buzzed. 

“Miss Stark--”

After Gerry didn't say anything else, Felicity tapped on the intercom.  “What is it, Gerry?”

The door to her office flew open, making Felicity jump in her wheelchair.  “The boss is here, look busy,” her father said, breezing in. 

“Oh?  So where's Mom?” Felicity asked with a smile, turning her face so Tony could kiss her cheek.  

“Funny,” he said with a fake-sounding laugh.  “Call off your assistant, okay?”

Felicity looked over to the doorway of her office, seeing Gerry standing there with an anxious expression on his face.  “It's fine, Gerry, you know my dad has full access.  Hold my calls, please.”

“Y-yes, Miss Stark,” Gerry said before closing the door. 

“Nervous little thing, isn't he?” Tony said, stalking around her office. 

She watched him, wondering what was going on.  “Gerry’s been my assistant for years--you know that.  He's as loyal as they come.  Do you want to sit down?”

“Nope,” he said, playing with the awards that lined one of her shelves.  “Felicity Stark, Businesswoman of the Year.  Star City Cancer Fund, Diamond Sponsor, Felicity Stark.  Patent Number 6745903, Felicity Stark. Don't you have twelve patents now?”

“Only eight, but you know that.  And that's my first patent as vice-president of SI, which is why it's there,” Felicity told him, wheeling her chair towards him.  The flippant humor, the nonstop talking, the inability to sit still: she had rarely seen this behavior from her father.  But from stories her mother and Rhodey had told, Felicity knew what this meant.  At this moment, he was a lethal cocktail of stressed, unhappy, and some other emotion she couldn’t put her finger on.  

This was bad.

“What brings you to town?” Felicity asked, hoping she sounded cheerful.  “Is Mom with you?”  

“Nope,” he said shortly, moving over to the framed magazine covers and newspaper articles.  “Y’know, if Steve had a wall like this, it would rival the Great Wall of China.  America’s Star-Spangled Man, the Sentinel of Liberty, Capsicle.  So pure, so moral, so damn naive--”  

Tony cut himself off and turned to look out the windows, taking in Star City, but it was only a momentary respite.  Then he turned back around, picking up the different knick-knacks that were scattered around the room.  “That whole mess in Lagos . . . have you heard from Steve since then?” he asked her, glancing at her before he went back to fiddling with the Newton’s cradle that was on a side table.  

“I wrote a check to the relief effort.  Oliver, too.  The way the Avengers are being characterized . . . it’s more than a mess.  I’m worried, Dad.  I’ve been trying to call Steve and talk to him, but you know how he gets when something like this happens,” Felicity said, watching Tony and following him around the office as best she could in her chair.   

“Strong, silent type.  Goes with the jawline,” Tony said, sending one of the spheres in the Newton’s cradle slamming into the other ones, making the toy tip over.  

Felicity moved to help him pick it up, but leaning down in her chair, she wasn’t quite able to reach it.  “Dad, you’re going to have to get it,” Felicity grunted out, still trying.  

After a moment, she looked over at him and felt her heart skip a beat.  Tony hadn’t moved.  He was still crouched down, one hand outstretched towards the Newton’s cradle, but he was so still.  So not like her father.  

Ignoring the Newton’s cradle, Felicity reached out to Tony and put her hand on his shoulder.  “Dad?  What’s wrong?” 

Like a switch being flicked, her father suddenly sprang into action.  He pulled away from her and set the toy back on the table, then walked over to her desk and started tapping on her keyboard.  “What’s the word on your implant?”  

“Everything seems okay, it’s just . . . not working yet,” Felicity said, wondering at what her father was trying to hide by his change of subject.  Yet maybe if she showed him she was all right, he would relax enough to tell her what was bothering him.  “D.A.V.I.S., please pull up my last scan.”  

“Yes, Felicity,” D.A.V.I.S. replied, immediately displaying the three-dimensional representation of her spinal cord.  It rotated in the air, drawing her father’s attention. 

He stepped close to the holographic display, eyeing it, before he pulled out his phone and tapped on it.  “Friday, capture this for me.”  

“You got it, boss,” came the female Scottish voice of her father’s new virtual assistant.  

“Friday’s Scottish, too?” Felicity asked in surprise.  “I hadn’t realized that.”  She paused and chuckled a little.  “We should get her and D.A.V.I.S. in a computer together, see what happens.  Little baby programs with Scottish accents!”

“The last time I had two powerful systems in one computer, I killed J.A.R.V.I.S., but sure, princess, we could do that.”  

It was all she could do to hold back her gasp.  Her father thought he had killed J.A.R.V.I.S.?  She knew the whole mess with Ultron had led to J.A.R.V.I.S. getting disabled and his consciousness becoming Vision, but . . . her father believed it to be his fault?  She had never realized he felt like that.  

“Dad . . .” Felicity started to say, only to find that for one of the few times in her life, she didn’t really know what to say.  Tony glanced over at her and shrugged.  

“I could have just rebooted J.A.R.V.I.S.  Start over with the original source code, make some updates, try to recapture what was lost . . .”  He paused and shook his head.  “I imagine Friday is a redhead.  Does she sound like a redhead to you?  Your mother ignored me whenever I asked.”  

His body stiffened and Tony turned away from the projection, shoving his phone in his pocket.  “Steve said yes when I asked him.  One of the few times he’s agreed with me lately.  Because of course he agrees with me on the stupid stuff.  This thing in Lagos, it’s blowing up.  It’s bigger than any of us.  But he’s being all stubborn defender of freedom on this.”  

“I knew relations with Wakanda were getting tense after what happened--not that things with Wakanda aren't ever tense--but what’s going on, Dad?” Felicity asked, starting to get impatient.  She was so damn worried about him.  This was beyond Tony’s normal bouncing-off-the-walls, high-energy persona.  He was trying to act like everything was normal, but it was impossible for her to buy that.  Not with the cracks in his act. 

Tony waved his hand at the wall of televisions.  “Watch the news.  Or better yet, don’t.  It’s just crap anyway.  Don’t worry about it, princess.  You just focus on your recovery and Oliver becoming mayor and all that jazz.”  

Okay, now she was getting pissed.  He was right: there was a lot going on in her life.  More stuff than her father realized, since she refused to go running to her father with her fiancé’s problems.  It wasn't just her physical limitations and Oliver's mayoral campaign taking up her brain right now.  There was work.  There was Damian Darhk and H.I.V.E. and some group that were blowing up buildings in Star City, which had nearly led to the death of Quentin Lance.  There was Digg and Roy and Thea, both baby Sara and traveling-in-time Sara, Tommy’s worries about keeping Verdant open due to the latest economic downturn and Laurel working all hours to put away the criminals Oliver caught and Caitlin who was having a difficult pregnancy and reports about a red blur popping up in Central City. 

There was so much.  And now her father had shown up, clearly in distress, but he wouldn't tell her anything.  As if Felicity really was a princess, one he could keep locked up in a remote tower, far away from the world's problems. 

The world didn't work like that, though.  Her world didn't work like that--she refused to let it.  She wouldn't let him treat her like this. 

“Dad,” she said, grabbing his gesturing hand and holding on tightly, “I know something is wrong.  Talk to me.”

“When was the last time you talked to your mother?”

For a moment, Felicity thought this might be another distraction attempt, but then her mind put together how on-edge any mention of Pepper seemed to be making him.  She gave her head a shake as she tried to remember when she had last spoken to her mother. 

“A week or so?  Maybe a little longer.  Dad . . . is something wrong with Mom?” Felicity asked, feeling the cold hand of fear clench around her heart.  If something was wrong, it would be just like her mother to keep it from her--to keep it from everyone, until things got bad.  It would explain how Tony was acting, too. 

He let out a soft snort.  “No, I'm the one who's all wrong.  We're taking a break.”  He pulled his hand free from Felicity’s grasp, but she was too shocked to tighten her grip and keep him from pulling away. 

Her parents were taking a break?  What--what did that even mean?  People who had been married for nearly thirty years didn't ‘take a break’--that was for college kids who didn't know what they wanted.  But her parents knew what they wanted, or more correctly whom.  They wanted each other.  They loved each other. 

“What . . . what happened?” she asked in a quivering voice, looking towards Tony.  He was standing in front of the office windows, looking out over Star City.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low.  

Felicity moved her chair closer to Tony, drawing up beside him.  “Let me help you, Dad,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the hand hanging loose and limp by his side.  “I can call Mom, get her here so you two can start talking--”

“It won’t help.”  

“How do you know that?  Have you tried?  Have you talked to anyone?  A professional?” she pushed. 

With dark eyes, he looked down at her and nodded slowly.  Felicity couldn’t help gripping his hand tighter as it sunk in.  They had already tried therapy.  That meant maybe--possibly--this wasn’t just a break.  

It was a break-up.  

Her lower lip trembled and she wanted to cry.  She never thought this could happen.  Her parents loved each other so much.  Felicity knew that.  It was one of those facts of her life, up there with her higher-than-genius-level IQ and the importance of coffee to help her to function: her parents loved each other.  Nothing had ever caused her to doubt that fact, until now.  

Taking a deep breath, Felicity pushed aside her own feelings for the moment.  She could break down later, once she was home.  For now, she wanted to be here for her dad.  

“I can blow off my schedule for the rest of the day and we could go down to R&D,” Felicity said, keeping her grip on Tony’s hand.  “We could play around with projects that would never be viable but would be fun to create.  Then, you could come home and have dinner with me and Oliver.  Maybe stay up here for a day or two.”  

Tony shook his head.  “Can’t, princess.  Got places to be.”  

What did that mean?  Felicity watched in confusion as her father stepped over towards the side of the window and . . . slid it open?

Being on the forty-fourth floor, opening a window she didn’t realize could open filled her office with a strong, whipping wind.  Her hair flew into her eyes and she quickly wheeled herself back, just in case.  

Fortunately, the opening appeared to be only about four feet wide, but she had no idea how this kind of window had been installed in her office without her knowledge.  

“Dad?” she yelled, trying to get him to talk to her.  “What is this?!?”

He didn’t answer her--whether it was because he couldn’t hear her or didn’t want to answer, Felicity wasn’t sure.  It was probably both, she thought in dismay as she saw her father tap on his phone.  

Because she knew what was going to happen now.  

Pieces of the Iron Man armor suddenly flew in through the window, applying themselves to her father’s body.  He hovered in the air as the repulsors fired, raising him up to nearly the top of the window opening.  Just before the faceplate of his mask flew into place, he looked at her, a mournful, regretful expression on his face.  Then, all she could see was Iron Man, not her father, before he blasted his way out of her office.  

It was so loud, it brought Gerry running into her office.  With the wind blowing papers around the office, knocking the plaques and framed magazine covers off the wall, and being much too loud for conversation, Felicity just pointed at the window and Gerry hurried to close it.  

With the window closed, it felt like the calm after the storm.  But Felicity knew the storm hadn’t even started yet.  

Gerry looked around, an overwhelmed expression on his face.  “Miss Stark . . . what happened here?”

That was an excellent question.  She really wished she had an answer--not just for Gerry, but for herself.  Instead, Felicity just ran her hands over her hair, brushing back the strands that had come loose from her ponytail.  “Just help me clean up in here, please?” she asked, moving towards her desk to make sure everything wasn’t too out of order.  

When she looked back, Gerry hadn’t moved and Felicity snapped, “Now, Gerry, if you please?”  

Her assistant turned red and jumped into action, looking guilty and embarrassed.  It made Felicity feel like a crappy boss, but instead of apologizing, she started gathering papers and putting them back into her unique kind of order.

All while trying to hold back tears.

XXX

Felicity slowly wheeled herself into the loft, feeling a million years old.  Her whole body ached--even though it was surely her imagination, her legs and feet actually hurt, like they had when she had worn too-high heels for too long. 

The lights were off, which meant she had beat Oliver home.  That never used to happen, back when he was “running” Queen Consolidated.  In truth, Walter Steele, the very nice, very talented CFO of the company--and Oliver's former stepfather--had been in charge for years.  When Oliver had decided to run for mayor of Star City, he had made Walter's promotion official.  Now, Oliver was often busy at night, with local meetings or strategy sessions or fundraising events. 

Coming home to a dark, empty home made Felicity’s thoughts press on her.  Made her wish she could go back in time, before Oliver was running for mayor, before she had ended up in this chair . . . before she knew her parents were splitting up. 

Her lower lip trembled as the constantly-threatening tears finally spilled over.  Yanking her glasses off and dropping them into her lap, she covered her face with her hands as she wept.  Although ‘wept’ was far too dainty for how she cried.  Her shoulders shook as great, heaving sobs wracked her body.  The tears flowed like water from a faucet, while her nose quickly became stuffed up, making her gasp for air. 

“Felicity?  Felicity, baby!”

Sniffing, she looked up and saw Oliver, the door to the loft still open as he crossed the room towards her.  Without conscious thought, she lifted her arms and he scooped her up into his arms, holding her against his chest.  

There was a clatter she dimly heard--her glasses hitting the floor--but she didn't care.  All she cared about was holding on to Oliver with everything she had.  Oh, how she wished her legs worked, so she could wrap them around his waist and hold on even tighter.  To make sure he would never leave her. 

Oliver stroked her hair and whispered soothing words in her ear as he carried her.  She pressed her face against his neck, breathing in that mixture of pine, leather and something indescribable that combined into Oliver, as far as her nose went.  The merest hint of his particular fragrance would make her turn her head, looking for him.  It was always a comfort, catching that scent and knowing he was close.  Especially now.  

“Felicity, talk to me,” he said, rubbing his hand over her back.  “What’s wrong?  Is it the implant?”

She shook her head, trying to get herself under control.  At least enough to tell him what was going on.  “M-my--my dad, and my m-mom. . .”

The hand that was stroking her back stopped, then shifted as he tilted her chin back.  Felicity bit her lip as his eyes searched her face.  She blurted out, “They're breaking up.”

“Oh, thank God--I thought something bad had happened to them,” Oliver said with a sigh. 

“Something bad  _ has _ happened,” Felicity said, rubbing the back of her hand under her nose.  “Dad came to see me, and he was--I've never seen him like that, although I've heard the stories, his days when he was the cover boy for Self-Destruction Weekly.  And he was upset about Lagos, and so dismissively sexist and overprotective, and then he told me that he and Mom are over.”

Oliver didn't say anything and Felicity kept going.  “They tried therapy, I guess?  I said they should talk to someone and my dad didn't say anything, but it was clear they had tried but it hadn’t worked.”

“And I didn't know.”  She ran her wet, probably mucus-covered hands through her hair.  “I had no idea my parents’ marriage was in trouble.”

“You've been going through a lot,” Oliver said, his hand starting to smooth over her back again.  “They were probably trying to keep it between themselves for your sake.  They didn't want to tell you until they had to.”

With a grimace, Felicity shifted away from Oliver, feeling smothered and confined now.   “I never thought my parents would try to stay together for the kids,” she said bitterly.  “I thought they stayed together because they loved each other.”

“They do,” Oliver said quietly.  “But sometimes . . . even love can't conquer all.  But there’s hope for your parents, Felicity, because you’re right, they do love each other.  They just need some time.”

Felicity pushed herself off Oliver’s lap, wishing she could curl up in a ball.  Wishing she could go back to crying, instead of feeling angry.  She didn't get angry--not like this.  Not like she was ready to clean Oliver's clock, with how patronizing he was being.  All his talk about love not being enough, that her parents just needed some time.  What did he know?  It wasn't like his parents--

Oh.  Right.  Oliver’s parents  _ had  _ stayed together for the kids, until Robert Queen had died after the sinking of the Gambit.  And then his mother had died at the hands of Slade Wilson.  So there would never be any hope of his parents reconciling, actually seeing if they loved each other enough to stay together.

Her insides twisted as she tried to regain a hold on her logic and common sense.  Because she knew Oliver wasn’t really being patronizing or belittling, even if right now, it felt like he was.  What he was saying was true: there was still a chance that after some time apart, her parents would figure out they were happier together than apart.  

She still felt angry, though.  Like she wanted to be by herself until she could work through this all, since she couldn’t hide how she was feeling.  If she didn’t get away from Oliver, she would say something she would regret.  

“You’re right--I guess there’s still a chance,” she said, the words tasting like dust in her mouth.  She wiped away the tears, her face still feeling hot to the touch.  “I--I’m going to go clean up.  Maybe take a bath.”  

Oliver reached out and lightly stroked her hair, apparently not caring that she probably had clumps of snot in it.  “That’s a good idea.  I can make some dinner for us--perhaps the coq au vin you like?  And there’s ice cream in the freezer, I think.”  

“Okay,” she said, willing to agree with whatever he was saying.  “Could you bring my chair over?”  

Normally, she would watch him jump up and move over to her wheelchair, just for the pleasure of watching his muscles flex and contract.  Instead, she looked anywhere but at Oliver, so she noticed the front door was closed.

“When did you close the door?” she asked as he came closer.  

“When I was carrying you,” he said, setting the brakes on her chair.  He stepped back, letting her maneuver herself into the chair, instead of picking her up.  He almost always let her attempt to get into her chair, unless she asked for help.  Felicity felt a stab of annoyance mixed with gratitude, because she appreciated how he let her set the pace, but if he hadn’t picked her up . . . 

_ He picked you up because you were bawling your eyes out and he didn’t know what was wrong _ , that logical voice in her head said.  

Mentally telling that voice to shut up, Felicity heaved herself into her chair, slumping against the backrest to catch her breath.  

“Take all the time you need; I’ll keep dinner warm until you’re ready,” Oliver said, sliding off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves.  

Felicity pressed her lips together and nodded, then straightened up, took the brake off, and wheeled towards the elevator to the second floor of the loft.  

What was wrong with her?  She had an amazing, wonderful fiancé who was going to cook dinner for her, after he had a long day and probably was blowing off a previous commitment in order to stay with her.  All because he had found her crying and upset over her parents splitting up.  Only a bitch would be angry over that.  

Felicity Stark was a lot of things, but the last thing she wanted to be was a bitch.  It was something her mother had always talked about, how women who demanded certain things would be called names and held in contempt.  

“You have to make people have the same standards you do, so you don’t ever have to demand anything and get called a bitch,” Pepper had told her once, when Felicity was in college and complaining about a group project.

Back then, she had nodded and accepted her mother’s suggestion.  Now, though . . . she wasn’t so sure about it.  If she was the boss, why couldn’t she tell people what to do and have them do it, without being called a bitch?  Men didn’t have to worry about that--why should women concern themselves with that?

Her mother was a wonderful, amazing, intimidating woman, but sometimes, Felicity just didn’t understand her.  Like today, with finding out she had left her husband, Felicity’s father, and she hadn’t even called Felicity to tell her.  What was going on?  Was Pepper scared Felicity would take Tony’s side?  Or was there some other reason?  

This was making the anger flare back to life.  Felicity knew she had to find something to distract herself, something to help her calm down.  Maybe she would take a bath, like she had told Oliver.  

Wheeling herself into the bathroom, Felicity turned the water on to fill the tub.  She stacked some towels on the edge, then began undressing herself.  The wiggling and squirming was so uncomfortable.  This would be so much easier if the implant was doing what it was supposed to do . . . why couldn’t her legs just  _ work _ ?  

Somehow, she pushed aside the frustration and focused on getting herself into the tub, where she sank into the warm water and closed her eyes.  Of course, she slipped too far and she had to grab at the handrails to keep herself from going under the water. 

She looked up at the ceiling, ready to cry.  Relaxing in the bathtub after a long, hard, frustrating day used to be one of her favorite things to do.  Damian Darhk had even taken that from her.  And she couldn’t do anything to fix this, to stop him from attacking her again, to make him pay for what he had done.  Not just because he had magic, but because there was nothing she could do.  Not without her legs.  

One of her hands let go of the handrail and smacked at the water.  There was the satisfying noise of water hitting the sides of the tub, a stinging across her palm and the slightest lessening of her frustrations.  

Felicity looked down at the rippling water.  She let go of the other handrail and brought her hand, palm-down, against the water.  There was the same noise, the same stinging, the same good feeling.  The water didn’t care if she splashed it.  There were no feelings to be hurt, no sad eyes, no pitying tone.  

There was nothing but the water.  

It was a childish thing to do.  She wouldn’t be able to clean up the water escaping the tub, and the clothes she had left on the floor would get all wet.  But Felicity didn’t care.  

She just kept slapping the water, as hard as she could.

XXX

“D.A.V.I.S., please notify the cleaning service that I’ll pay double if they can come first thing in the morning,” Felicity said as she moved into the bedroom, not looking back at the mess in the bathroom.

“Yes, Felicity.  Oliver completed dinner eight minutes ago.  Would you like me to tell him you’re on your way downstairs?”

Even though she was feeling more like herself, Felicity wasn’t sure she was ready to face Oliver yet.  Wasn’t sure if she could control her temper when she knew he was worried about her and just wanted to take care of her.  

“No, D.A.V.I.S., thank you.  I’ll go down in a bit,” she said, moving over to the nook at the far end of the bedroom.  In this corner, they had set up a TV between floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, with a sofa long enough for Oliver but covered in pillows to promote cuddling together.  Picking up the remote, Felicity turned on the TV and opened up the DVR.  Normally in the bath, she would watch the reality shows she didn’t let on to Oliver that she enjoyed.  Watching one of them before she went downstairs should be enough to bring her back to sanity.  After all, watching a bunch of  out-of-touch and clueless people was bound to make her feel more grounded.  

Oliver must have been watching MSNBC the last time he had used this TV, since that was the channel playing.  She was focused on scrolling through her DVR listings, not even paying any attention to the news anchor, until she said the word “Lagos.”  

Her finger stabbed the Exit button on the remote, closing the DVR and making the newscast full-screen.  

“ . . . following the events in Sokovia, London, Washington, D.C. and New York in the last four years, last month’s incident in Lagos has served as a tipping point for the governments of the world.  The United Nations will hold a special session in Vienna in three days to ratify a set of protocols known as the Sokovia Accords, requiring any and all super-powered or enhanced individuals to operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel.  Secretary of Defense Thaddeus Ross presented the accords to the Avengers this morning, although we have yet to hear how the individual members of the group have responded.  Moving to other news, the latest tempest in the United States presidential election unfolded today in--”  

Felicity turned off the television, feeling her stomach twist.  This morning . . . her father had been with the Avengers.  Hearing about these Sokovia Accords--a bunch of papers which said the world didn’t trust the people they had been relying on to protect them for decades.

It was one thing when there had been national laws like the Superhero Registration Act here in the United States or when the old Soviet Union devised secret programs to create its own Socialist heroes.  This?  This was different.  This was the whole world turning against them.

“D.A.V.I.S., pull up all information on the Sokovia Accords.  I don’t care what you have to hack, get me everything,” she said, looking around wildly for her phone.  She must have left it downstairs.  

“And put in a call to . . .” she said, only for her voice to trail off as she wondered just who she could call.  Her father was out, based on his behavior earlier today.  The presentation must not have gone well, and she didn’t want to add to his problems, with her mom and then whatever had happened with the Avengers, by asking him what was going on.  

Her father had been making cracks about Steve . . . Steve must have disagreed with Tony.  

She gasped as it sunk in.  The Avengers were not going along with the Accords.  Not all of them, at least.  She guessed Rhodey would support her dad, just like Sam would support Steve.  The other members--Natasha, Clint (although he had supposedly retired, right?), Wanda, Vision, Thor, Bruce, the handful of associate members like Reed and Sue--would be harder to determine where their loyalties had fallen, but Steve and Tony had been the de facto leaders of the team since they had started.  If they weren’t willing to come to agreement on the Accords, this could be bad.  

Really, really bad.

“Felicity?  Who would you like to call?” D.A.V.I.S. prompted her.  

“Never mind,” she said, wheeling her chair towards the elevator.  “Send all the data on the Sokovia Accords to my tablet when you’ve got it.”  

“Of course, Felicity.”  

Her mind was racing as she waited to reach the first level of the loft.  It was all she could do to roll back and forth in the elevator.  

“Have you heard about these Sokovia Accords?” she asked Oliver, moving into the kitchen.  

“Sokovia Accords?” he asked, glancing over at her before he looked back to the oven.  “No . . . should I have?”  

“They’re new--the UN is saying the Avengers can’t be trusted, but it looks like some of the Avengers don’t agree,” Felicity replied, moving towards him.  

Oliver straightened up out of surprise, looking down at her, before he crouched down.  “Did your dad tell you about this?”

She shook her head.  “No--although I think he came to me after the Accords got presented to them.  After Steve was one of the ones who said he didn’t want to go along with them.”  

His eyebrows drew together.  “You think Tony and Steve are on opposite sides over these Accords?”

“I do,” Felicity said, watching his face.  Seeing as it sunk in, seeing her own fears and worries on Oliver’s face.  Which made her think she was vastly underestimating how bad this was going to get, if Oliver looked that worried.

“I’m worried,” she said, stating the obvious but wanting to tell Oliver--wanting to know what he was thinking.  Thank God she had managed to control her temper earlier; they didn’t have time to make up fights when there was so much going on in their world.  “I know this is the last thing we need, with Damian blowing up buildings in Star City and making movements against A.R.G.U.S. and me not helping anymore--”  

“Hey,” Oliver said quickly, lifting his hands to cup her face.  “We talked about this, remember?  You didn’t feel comfortable coming back to the team, and I support you one hundred percent.  You know I’ve always worried about how much of a load you were carrying, between SI and helping me.  It’s okay, Felicity.  You’ve got enough on your plate right now.”  

Two hours ago, what Oliver had just said would have pissed her off.  Now, though, she felt like crying, because she knew he meant every word.  He had never been shy about saying he thought she worked too hard, did too much.  And now that her extended family seemed to be tearing itself in half . . . 

She would feel guilty no matter which side she chose, whether she choose to keep out of the Avengers’ struggles or went back to helping Oliver and the rest of the team.  There was no way she could do it all, so she had to choose.  And she didn’t know really what side she was on, which choice was what she wanted to make.

Reaching out, Felicity started to pull Oliver in for a kiss, but then D.A.V.I.S. spoke.  

“Felicity, you have a phone call from Sharon Carter.” 

Sharon?  She frowned, leaning back from Oliver.  “Okay, D.A.V.I.S., put it through to the phone here.”  

Giving Oliver an apologetic look, Felicity moved over towards the desk in the corner of the kitchen to pick up the phone handset.  “Sharon?  It’s Felicity.”  

“Hi,” Sharon said, her voice sounding a bit strained.  “How are you doing?  I heard about your accident . . .”  

While Felicity had always been friendly with Sharon, they weren't exactly friends.  She hadn't expected the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to call her in the first place, let alone ask about her “accident.”  Besides, Sharon sounded upset--and from what Felicity knew about Sharon, she would appreciate Felicity not beating around the bush. 

“Well, I’ve been better--and from the sound of it, so have you.  What’s wrong, Sharon?” Felicity asked, propping her head up on one hand and looking down.  Because she just knew that something  _ was  _ wrong.  When it rains, it pours, as the old saying went.  And Felicity felt like she was in a monsoon.

Sharon huffed out a sound that could have been a laugh, but wasn’t quite.  “It’s Aunt Peggy.  She passed away overnight.”  

Felicity sucked in a breath.  “Oh, God, Sharon.  I’m so sorry.”  

Peggy Carter had been like an aunt to her father.  Growing up, Peggy had worked with Howard Stark to establish S.H.I.E.L.D., and Tony had nothing but good things to say about the woman who refused to let loss define her.  

“I can't believe she's gone,” Felicity said, feeling a stab of guilt over not taking the time to see Peggy more often after she had been diagnosed with dementia.  

“Me, neither,” Sharon said softly.  Then, as if she was marshaling her emotions, Sharon continued briskly.  “The service is going to be the day after tomorrow in London.  I tried to get word to your dad, but I don't know if he'll get the message and I thought he would want to be there.”

Under normal circumstances, Tony would want to be there, yes.  But given the man who had been in her office earlier that day, Felicity wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. 

“Is Steve going to be there?” Felicity asked before shaking her head.  “No, of course he's going to be there.”

“He was the first person I contacted,” Sharon replied. 

“I'll get the word to my dad, Sharon.  But I think I'd like to attend as well,” Felicity said, already looking for her tablet. 

It appeared in front of her, along with a glass of wine, and Felicity smiled her thanks to Oliver. 

“I'll send you the details about the service.  Thank you, Felicity. See you soon.”

“You, too, Sharon,” Felicity said before hanging up.  She leaned back and lifted her glasses, rubbing her eyes.  It had been a long day, and the next few days would be even longer.  

A warm hand rested on her shoulder and Felicity reached back to wrap her fingers around Oliver’s.  “What happened?” he asked softly.  

“Peggy Carter is dead,” Felicity said, pausing to let this reality sink in.  To grapple with a world without Aunt Peggy in it.  

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, crouching beside her.  “You’re going to the funeral?”  

Felicity nodded.  “It’s in London, the day after tomorrow.”  She looked at him.  “You can’t come.”  

It wasn’t a question--it was a statement.  Because Felicity knew he was trying to predict Damian Darhk’s next move, and considering that Oliver was now running for mayor against Damian’s wife . . . he just couldn’t leave.  

“If you need me, I could come,” Oliver said softly.  

Shaking her head, Felicity pulled her hand away.  “No, I don’t want to put you through that.  Besides, I’m going to have my hands full with my dad, who would totally crash the funeral of the last connection with his past, even though it would probably mean a fight with Steve.”  

Oliver nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it.  “Well, if you change your mind, I can rearrange things.”  

“I know,” she said, giving him a weak smile.  “I’m going to call the SI pilot, and then I have to pack.”  

Putting her tablet in her lap, Felicity wheeled back towards the elevator.  

“What about dinner?”  

“I’ll be down in a half hour,” she called over her shoulder to him.  “But go ahead and eat if you’re hungry.”  

“Felicity--”  

He cut himself off, but the frustration and worry was clear in his voice.  Felicity knew he wanted her to eat now, to rest, to talk to him.  But she was just too tired.  Tired and stressed and still stuck in this damn chair.  

And now she had to find a way to say goodbye to the closest thing to a grandmother that she had ever had.

End, Chapter 3  

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks are owed to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline and adiwriting for this chapter. They really helped reassure me when I wasn’t sure, which is why they’re the best first readers and betas around. :-)

 

Felicity wasn’t a religious person.  Neither of her parents had really cared about participating in the rites and rituals, so her time in churches was pretty much limited to weddings and funerals.  And she much preferred the former over the latter.  

Yet sitting in the back of the church, her chair pulled up alongside the end of a pew and off to the side, there was something comforting about being here.  This church wasn’t even that old, but there was still the sense of peace and tradition and continuity.  These walls would be here in a hundred years, long after everyone inside was gone.  It said something about the need for a spiritual force to believe in.  

Even though normally Felicity didn’t consider herself as someone who needed that, right now she did.  As sad as this occasion was, it felt good to stop and pause, to surround herself with people united by their grief at the loss of Peggy Carter.  

After all, she could certainly use a chance to pause.  A chance to catch her breath and let go of her worries for a few hours.  Between SI, Damian Darhk, Oliver’s struggles to manage his campaign while also being the Green Arrow, her recovery and her relationship with Oliver . . . it was a lot.  And that was before she found out about her parents’ separation and the prospect of a major conflict dividing the superhero community in which she had grown up.

No wonder she had been so eager to come to London to attend Peggy’s funeral.  Despite the hard work of traveling in the wheelchair, it still felt like a break.  

Shaking her head, Felicity resolved that as soon as Damian Darhk was gone, she and Oliver would go away.  Like the trip they had taken last summer, going to Bali for three weeks.  Three blissful weeks . . . well, mostly blissful.  Because as much as she had wanted, as much as she promised Oliver she would disconnect, Felicity just hadn’t been able to do that.  Not when a crisis seemed to happen every Wednesday at SI.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the coffin being carried down the main aisle by six men.  Felicity could see Steve first in the line on this side of the coffin, and even in profile, his expression made her heart break.  She could tell he was trying to hold it together, to keep his grief contained, but Felicity knew what Peggy’s death meant to Steve.  It was the final act in a romance that had never had a chance to really be.      

The service was lovely, Felicity thought:  a fitting memorial to an amazing woman.  When Sharon stood up and spoke about Peggy, Felicity found herself smiling, even as she felt a tear roll down her face.  Because really, that was Peggy: standing fast in the face of the world telling her not to do what she wanted.  It was a mindset Felicity had tried to live her life by . . . something at which she hadn’t felt very successful over the past few months.

If Peggy was here, she would tell Felicity to pick herself up and give it another go, in that soft English accent that had never faded in spite of decades in the United States.  If she talked to Steve about this, he would say it didn’t matter how many times you hit the mat, as long as you got up after each blow.  

Her chest felt tight and Felicity looked down at her lap, feeling the tears streak down her cheeks.  She felt guilty that her tears weren’t for Peggy, but for herself.  For everything that was going wrong in her life, for all the weight she felt on her shoulders.  It wasn’t right for her to be so distraught over her own problems, when Peggy was gone.  When Steve was heartbroken.  When her parents were splitting up, when her father was rapidly becoming a basket case--

Everything seemed to be spiraling out of her control and Felicity didn’t know what to do.  She didn’t know who to turn to, who could help her.  Not even Oliver seemed like the right choice.  Not with everything he was dealing with, not when she couldn’t remember the last time they had talked about something normal and easy.  No, everything lately had been about the election, or Damian Darhk, or about how she was feeling, or about Oliver’s worries about Thea.   

Felicity wiped at her eyes, trying to calm down.  The service was nearly over and she didn’t want seen sobbing by the entire audience as they filed out of the church.  At least she wasn’t the only person with red eyes and tear stains on their cheeks, though, she saw as everyone began to leave at the conclusion of the service.  

At the front of the church, Steve was standing, Sam by his side.  They didn’t look like they were talking; they were just standing together silently.  Felicity wished she could go up there and talk to Steve.  To be there for him, since her father wasn’t.  She had done her best to get in touch with him, to tell him the news, but Tony hadn’t answered any of her messages.  Yet Iron Man had taken the time to drop down into Rockefeller Plaza, during a Today show outside segment, to discuss how the Avengers would definitely support the Sokovia Accords.  

After that, perhaps it was best he had stayed away.  But Felicity was sure that someday, Tony would regret not being here for Peggy’s funeral.  

Steve turned and said something to Sam, who looked unsure but nodded.  The Falcon turned and started walking up the aisle, spotting Felicity.  “Hey, blondie,” he said with a more muted version of his normal smile.

“Hey, Sam,” she said as he drew close, doing her best to smile back.  She tilted her face up to accept his kiss on the cheek, then gestured towards Steve.  “How’s he doing?”  

“You know Steve,” Sam said, straightening up.  “Strong silent type.”  

Just as she thought: he was pushing all his emotions down.  Not only about Peggy, but about Bucky’s disappearance and all the worries such a disappearance created, she would bet.  

“You should go talk to him.”  

“Me?” Felicity asked, looking up at Sam.  “Have you forgotten who I am?”  

“Steve’s favorite honorary niece and about as close as he’ll come to having a daughter?” Sam asked, as always cutting through the bullshit.  Damn him.  

Blowing out a breath, Felicity ran her hands over the rails around the wheels of her chair, wondering if she should go up and talk to Steve.  If maybe all that mattered was sharing a moment with Steve to remember Peggy.  

Her hands seemed to move without any input from her brain, rolling her chair up the aisle towards the front of the church.  A few people nodded to Felicity as they moved past her towards the exit, but all her focus was on Steve:  on the straight line of his shoulders as he looked up at the windows and decoration of the church.

The closer she got, the drier her mouth became.  Felicity rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and swallowed before she spoke.  

“Hello, Steve.”  

He turned around and for a split-second, Felicity didn’t really recognize him.  His face was so remote and cold, like a marble statue.  Like he was more symbol than man.  And then, just like that, he was her favorite honorary uncle, the man who was like a second father to her.  

“Felicity,” he said, leaning down into a crouch, his hand landing on her knee, before fluttering away to take one of her hands.  His eyes roamed over her, taking her in, then he shook his head.  “I’m happy you’re here, but I’m so sorry to see you in that chair.”  

Squeezing his hand, Felicity did her best to smile.  “Thank you, Steve.  I’m--I’m just glad to be here.”  

In spite of her smile, she knew they both understood the sadness of her words.  It wasn’t just about being here in this church.  It was more about being  _ here _ .  Being alive.  Because being alive was such a gift.  

With a small smile, Steve ducked his head and squeezed her hand back.  “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course . . . I wanted to remember Peggy.  Peggy was family,” she said, stumbling a bit over her words.  Her tongue felt as clumsy as her feet did during physical therapy sessions.  “And--and so are you, Steve.”  

“I don’t know if your dad would agree about that right now, Felicity,” Steve said, letting go of her hand.  

Felicity reached out and grabbed his hand again.  “You’re still my favorite uncle, Steve.  That’s never going to change, even if you and Dad are arguing about these Accords.”

In her grip, Steve’s fingers tensed and then relaxed.  “Have you seen the full text?  All that they’re asking of us?”  

Shaking her head, Felicity lowered her voice.  “I haven’t had the chance yet, but . . . what are your objections to them?”

Steve sighed.  “I understand what they’re trying to do.  They want accountability, a feeling that they can bring order to chaos.  But this isn’t the way to do it.  The United Nations is a fine organization, but they shouldn’t be in charge of deciding which threats the Avengers should handle.  We’re the ones best equipped to do that.”  

“But think of how many threats there are to the world, Steve,” Felicity countered.  “I know the Avengers have special abilities, but there’s only so many of you.  If the UN was in charge, evaluating situations, using the team in a more efficient, effective way, sending you in for the fights that only you can fight--”

“How can we know that, though?  If we give up control to anyone else, there’s always going to be questions,” Steve interrupted.  “How do we know this won’t become about settling old scores, playing politics?  We don’t.  No matter what Tony says, having the UN make the calls won’t prevent us from making mistakes and being wrong--but if we’re the ones choosing to get involved, then they’ll be our mistakes.  Mistakes we accept the responsibility for, instead of international groups passing the buck.”  

She let out a sigh of her own.  It was clear Steve had thought this over.  He had reasoned this all out and Felicity couldn’t deny the logic of his arguments.  Yet . . . she could also see her father’s point of view, and she knew that Tony was acting from a place of wanting to make the world safer.  That was all he had been trying to do for decades.  

Meeting Steve’s gaze, Felicity smiled a little.  “So I guess I can’t convince you, huh?”  

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” he said.  And the thing was, Felicity knew Steve meant it.  He hated that he couldn’t find a way to compromise with her dad.  

“This is what a family is like,” he said.  “You can fight all day long, but at the end of the day, you’re still family.  Right now, it’s the morning, but at some point, it’ll be night and we’ll have found a way to make up.  ‘Never go to bed angry’ is a good rule to live by.”  

“I can’t see you fighting with your family, Steve,” Felicity said.  “Fighting other people?  Yes, most definitely.” 

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.  “Family isn’t just about blood.  Buck and me, the fights we had--they were real humdingers.  But I always had his back and he always had mine.”  

It always came down to Bucky for Steve.  Given their history, it wasn’t really surprising.  What Felicity couldn’t understand was how Steve could choose Bucky over Tony, over the rest of the Avengers, over everyone else.  If Bucky was family, he would understand if Steve kept the peace within the Avengers by going along with the Accords, letting the UN handle taking the Winter Soldier into custody.  Right?

The sound of clicking heels interrupted Felicity’s deliberations and made both Steve and herself turn to see Natasha approaching.  There was a look on her face that made Felicity think she was here to talk business with Steve.  Especially when he rose to his full height, his face gaining some more of that remoteness.  

“I should get going,” Felicity said, looking up at Steve.

He nodded and leaned back down to hug her.  “Thanks again for coming, Felicity.  Take care of yourself, okay?”  

Even though she knew it could only be a quick hug, Felicity still took a moment to breathe him in, to take comfort in the strength of Steve’s arms.  “I will.  And that goes double for you, Steve.”  

“You got it,” he said, straightening up.  “Give my best to Oliver.”  

“I will,” Felicity said, turning around in her chair.  As she passed Natasha, the other woman patted Felicity’s shoulder and gave her a tight smile.  It made her curious about what Nat was going to talk to Steve about and how the Black Widow felt about the Sokovia Accords.  

That wasn’t her business, though.  And it was bound to complicate her already-mixed feelings about the Accords and how they were impacting some of the people she loved most.  

Felicity wheeled herself out of the church, moving towards the car waiting for her and thankful that a few burly men were holding back the intrusive London paparazzi.  Taking out her phone, she sent a message to the SI pilot, informing him that she was on her way to Southend Airport and would be there in forty-five minutes.  

Her break was over, which meant it was time to go home and face some of her other problems.

XXX

The quiet voice of the flight attendant drew Felicity out of her doze.

“Miss Stark, we will be landing in forty-five minutes.  Would you like a bite to eat before we land?”

“No, thank you,” Felicity said, sitting up and lifting her glasses to rub her eyes.  She had planned to do work on the flight--had even opened her laptop and pulled some files from her carry-on.  But as soon as the jet was at cruising altitude, she had nodded off.  

“Just some coffee, actually,” she told the flight attendant.  

With a quiet murmur of acknowledgement, the attendant quickly brought her a cup of coffee before leaving her alone to gather her things and put them away.  She picked up her phone and scrolled through her messages, pausing when she saw she had a voicemail from her mother.  

Felicity stared at the screen as a myriad of emotions made her stomach churn.  It had been three days since she had found out about her parents’ separation, and this was the first she was hearing from Pepper.  She wasn’t sure why it had taken her mother so long to reach out to her.  

Sighing, she turned her head to look out the window, watching the twinkling lights down on the ground.  As much as Felicity loved her mother, as much as she looked up to Pepper and emulated her, Felicity didn’t really understand her.  Or maybe Pepper seemed so amazing and well-rounded, Felicity sometimes didn’t know if she had a place in her mother’s life.  Which sounded awful, and admittedly wasn’t even really the problem.  She just couldn’t put her finger on it, other than to say her relationship with her mother was complicated.  Felicity knew she and Tony had so much in common, it was easy for them to find common ground.  With herself and Pepper . . . it wasn’t so simple.  

Slowly, Felicity dialed her voicemail and listened to her mother’s message.

“Hi, Felicity, it’s Mom.  I . . . I know by now your father has talked to you about what’s happening, and I’m sorry I haven’t called you before today.  I just--I haven’t been able to talk about this.  It’s so hard.  But I really want to talk to you, and find out how you’re feeling.  I love you.  Bye.”

As she listened to the message, Felicity felt her heart sink.  Her mother sounded so sad.  In fact, Felicity thought she heard the sound of tears in Pepper’s voice.  Felicity couldn't remember if she had ever seen her mother cry, so just hearing the possible evidence of such an action felt like a punch in the gut.  

God, she was the worst daughter.  How could she be so unsympathetic?  Both her parents were suffering right now, and to think her mother didn’t care about the breakup of her marriage . . . she was the worst.  

It was too late now, since Pepper was an early-to-bed type, but first thing tomorrow, Felicity was going to call her mother and have a long talk.  Perhaps once she heard more of her mother’s side of things, she would have a better feel for the circumstances.  And maybe knowing more would make her feel better.    

“We are beginning our descent, Miss Stark,” the pilot announced.

She made sure her seat belt was securely fastened and quickly sent a message to Rob, confirming her arrival time.  The plane landed smoothly and Felicity endured the uncomfortable journey down the plane’s steps in the special narrow wheelchair.  Once she was settled in her own chair, she took a deep breath and then moved towards the terminal, where Rob and Digg were both waiting for her.  

“I didn’t expect to see both of you,” she said in surprise as she drew closer to them.

“When you get outside, you’ll see why,” Rob said grimly.  

Felicity looked back and forth between the two men.  “What is it?”

“Now that your father has announced his position on the Sokovia Accords, everyone wants to know how public figures feel about them,” Digg said.  “The press has been staking out the loft, but they got wind of your arrival and now they’re waiting for you to come out of the terminal.”

“Just what I expect from the Star City press corps,” Felicity said with a shake of her head.  “Okay, thanks for the warning.  Let’s go.”  

Digg opened his mouth, but Felicity had already moved on.  As she approached the exit doors, she could see the flashes pick up in intensity the closer she got.  Once she was actually outside, she felt like she was in the middle of a rave.  Just like always, she put her head down and wheeled her chair forward, relying on Digg and Rob to hold back anyone who got too close.

“Miss Stark!  Do you support the Sokovia Accords like your father?”

“Do you know how Captain America feels about the Accords?”

“Felicity, is the wedding still on now that Oliver has come out against the Accords?” 

If she had been walking, she would have stumbled.  As it was, her hands slipped on the rails, making her wheelchair dart forward, out of her control.  She blinked, looking for who had said that, because she wasn’t sure she had heard correctly.

Oliver was opposed to the Sokovia Accords?

“Okay, people, that’s enough--step back!”  Digg’s voice was practically a bellow as he got in front of her.  Someone--probably Rob--started pushing her chair, moving double-time towards the car.  And all Felicity could do was sit there in shock as she tried to put this all together.  

It was like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, or having pieces from two different puzzles and not knowing which pieces went to which puzzle.  She was utterly confused and completely shocked and incredibly angry.

Because why hadn’t Oliver told her?

XXX

By the time she entered the loft, Felicity still didn’t know what to think.  But she knew how she felt, and that was mad.  

“Oliver?” she called out.  

The man in question came out of their shared office, dressed casually in a henley and jeans.  “Hey.  Welcome home.  I hope the funeral--”  

Felicity held up her hand, cutting him off and making him stop in his tracks.  “What the hell, Oliver?” she asked angrily, before holding up the copy of the  _ Star City Examiner _ Digg had given her in the car.  The one with the banner headline OLIVER QUEEN AGAINST SOKOVIA ACCORDS: Mayoral candidate & Green Arrow opposes UN accountability measure.”

He stiffened for a moment, before blowing out a breath.  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you--I wanted to wait until I could talk everything over with you in person.”  

“Which I get.  But to not even give me a heads up, Oliver?” Felicity asked, tossing aside the newspaper.  “I got blindsided by a reporter on my way out of the airport.  That wasn’t how I wanted to find out you were opposed to the Accords!”

“You’re acting like I knew how you felt about these measures and kept my true feelings from you,” Oliver said, his forehead wrinkled.  “But no sooner did either of us know about them, but you were gone.  And I got cornered at a press conference, so I had to give an answer.”  

Balling her hands into fists, Felicity made herself close her eyes and get a handle on her emotions.  She didn’t want to get into a screaming match with Oliver--she never wanted to fight with him.  She loved him, after all.  The last thing she wanted to do was take all her frustrations out on him.  

“So explain it to me,” she said, opening her eyes and connecting with his.  “Tell me why you’re against the Accords.”  

Slowly, Oliver moved towards her, drawing one of the dining chairs over from the table so he could sit across from her.  “At first, I didn’t really think about them beyond how they would affect you,” Oliver said, his voice a bit halting.  “But then, some reporters covering the campaign started making references to it.  Followed by Ruvé Adams putting out a statement saying she was in support of the Accords and how they shouldn’t just apply to the Avengers.”  

Felicity frowned, not sure how she felt about Mrs. Evil thinking the Sokovia Accords were a good idea.  But then, she wasn’t sure how she herself felt about the Accords.  Until she had fully reviewed the text of the protocols, she had been noncommittal about her opinion.  Of course she was leaning towards supporting them, since her father did, but Felicity always made up her own mind.  

“So with all that,” Oliver said, leaning forward in his chair, “I felt like I had to go public with how I feel.  Which is that I can appreciate what the Accords want to do, but I don’t think they’re the way to achieve it.”  

“But why?” Felicity asked, running her hands through her hair.  “What’s so wrong with them?”

He looked down, the floor suddenly very fascinating to him.  “When I was gone, I saw what it was like being under the control of an organization.”  

That made Felicity pay attention--not just his attitude and how he seemingly wasn’t able to look her in the eye, but the fact he was telling her something about those five years he so rarely talked about.  

“You know I worked for Amanda Waller at A.R.G.U.S.,” Oliver said slowly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers for a split-second before returning to his examination of his hands.  “What she had me do . . . what she  _ made  _ me do . . . it was never the right thing to do.  Amanda always felt the ends justified the means--always.  And if I ever disagreed with her, it didn’t matter.  I still had to do what she said.”  

She swallowed, hearing the pain and guilt in Oliver’s voice.  It was difficult hearing yet another way in which she didn’t know Oliver, after being engaged to Oliver for nearly three years.  Yet the very fact that she didn’t know much about his work for A.R.G.U.S. told her it was something Oliver still hadn’t come to terms with.  Which meant he didn’t talk about it.  

After a moment, Oliver rubbed a hand over his face and sat up, as if bracing himself for her reaction.  “That’s why I don’t agree with the Accords.  Yes, the UN and A.R.G.U.S. are different--but not that different.”  

“Okay . . . so I think they’re more different than you think, but--but I can understand why you’re scared about the Accords,” Felicity began, only for Oliver to shake his head.  

“Felicity, these Accords take away basic human liberties that the UN should be enforcing,” he argued.  “It’s no different from the Superhuman Registration Act, the Mutant Registration Act, the Keene Act--from any of it.  It’s just another way to take the fears people have and turn it into the grounds to treat certain people differently.”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Felicity countered hotly.  “Because like you said, the UN is about human liberties!  It’s an international organization!  This isn’t like America letting the Friends of Humanity lobby a few senators into sponsoring a mutant registration act.  There’s so many different countries involved in this, the politics won’t be such a big deal.”  

In all the years they had been together, Felicity didn’t think they had ever discussed anything so political.  For the most part, they always saw eye-to-eye on most issues, whether about business, elected officials, or what to watch on TV.  Discovering that Oliver was so much more liberal than she expected--than she realized--was eye-opening.  He always knocked his intelligence, yet he was speaking with what appeared to be a firm grounding about what the Accords were, as well as the same kind of passion that inspired him to run for mayor in the first place.  

A passion she still didn’t understand.  Oliver could make a difference in Starling City just by taking a more active role at Queen Consolidated, but when she had suggested that, he hadn’t even seemed to listen.  He was so taken by the idea to run for mayor that Felicity had let it drop.  Now she was wondering if she should have said more.  

“C’mon, Felicity--you’re not that naïve,” Oliver said with a snort.  “Can you really tell me you trust the UN to administer these Accords and direct the Avengers better than your dad and Steve have been doing all these years?”  

“That’s not the question,” Felicity said, hearing how defensive she sounded.  Because damn it, she felt defensive right now.  She wasn’t prepared for this fight.  If only she hadn’t slept on the flight--she could have finally gotten the chance to read the Accords from cover-to-cover and see what they were dictating.  At least then she would have known where she stood--metaphorically speaking, she thought as she gave a disdainful look at her still-useless legs.

But she hadn’t thought Oliver would fight with her like this.  She had been mad when she had come home, yeah, but her anger always burned bright and fast.  Hearing Oliver’s explanation for why he was against the Accords should have been enough for her to let go of her anger.  But it hadn’t been.

Oliver opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue with her some more, and Felicity rushed on.  “The question is, if you’re for making someplace--whether it’s Star City or the world as a whole--safer, better, how can you not accept that there has to be limits and guidelines on how you do so?  There is a long list of people throughout history who thought they had a better way of doing things--and for every Dr. King, there’s a Hitler.  Just because you believe the Accords are wrong doesn’t mean you shouldn’t follow them.”  

“Even if I thought they were right, I wouldn’t follow them.”

Felicity threw her hands up in the air, wishing for the tenth time during this conversation she could pace around the room like she wanted.  “What the hell, Oliver?  Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, the Avengers should be allowed to dictate what they do and how they do it,” Oliver said, rising to his feet and putting his hands on his hips.  “They know what they’re doing--they’ve proved that for the nearly two decades they’ve been active.  We live in a dangerous world and they’re making it a bit safer, in a way that goes beyond what the police or the military or governments can do.  If any of them could do that, they would--there wouldn’t be a need for the Avengers--”

“Or you.”  

He reared back, his lips parting in surprise.  For a long moment, he stared at her, before his eyes narrowed.  “Excuse me?” he asked, his voice colder than Felicity had ever heard it.  

Not that she cared right now.  

“Ever since you came back to Star City, you’ve been trying to make this place better,” Felicity said, refusing to back down.  “Mr. Big Bad Vigilante, the lone wolf, fixing what you thought was broken using any means necessary--including killing.  Until I told you that there was a better way, and you agreed with me.  You brought Digg in, you trained Roy and even your own  _ sister _ , for God’s sake, Oliver!  And at the same time, you started working with the SCPD, you worked publicly as both Oliver Queen and the Green Arrow.  You got all the applause, all the accolades--but that wasn’t enough for you, was it?  You knew there was a better way, so you decided to run for mayor.  To become part of the establishment, because you knew that being a vigilante wasn’t the right way.”  

The longer she talked, the more she could see the anger rising in Oliver.  Because he had gone absolutely, perfectly still.  She almost thought he had stopped breathing.  

“So excuse me for calling you on your hypocrisy, because that’s what you are, Oliver--a giant, flaming hypocrite, for opposing the Accords when you’ve done everything you can to move away from being some loose cannon towards somebody that’s in charge.  Which is no different from what the Accords are trying to do!”  

Oliver glared at her.  “I decided to run for mayor so I could have access to more inside information--information I could use as the Green Arrow!  I needed some way to get it, since even before your accident, you couldn’t help me!”  

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he frowned and lifted his hands from his hip, bringing them halfway towards his mouth.  As if he wanted to pluck the words from the air and push them back between his lips.  

Felicity was never one to escalate a fight.  If she felt mad or upset, she usually chose to take a step back, to leave and ‘get some air’.  She didn’t believe that fighting solved anything.

Yet there was no way she was leaving for air now.  Not after what he had just said.  Not with the anger sparking through her, leaving tingles throughout her body.

“What?” she asked brokenly, staring up at him.  “You--you blame me for making you run for mayor?”

“No, no, no,” Oliver said, crouching down in front of her and grabbing her hands.  “No, I didn’t mean it like that.  I’m just saying, yes, I decided to run for mayor in order to do more as the Green Arrow, to do more for Star City, because you’ve always told me there’s more than one way of doing things.  You’ve given me so many examples of how people can help, and I just--I wasn’t ready to give up being the Green Arrow, but I was ready to see if I could be more.  But that doesn’t change how I’d still be the one in control, I’d still be making the decisions, as mayor of Star City or as the Green Arrow.  That’s why I can’t back the Accords--they’d take away my control.”  

She yanked her hands from his and moved her chair back.  “You’re still not making any sense!”  

“Not everything we do has to make sense, Felicity--c’mon, you of all people should know, after growing up around your dad, that there’s plenty of things we do that make no sense at all.”  

Pointing a shaking finger at him, Felicity said, “Don’t bring my dad into this.  He’s trying to make the world a better place!  A safer place.  And people like Steve, and my mom, and you--you get up on your high moral ground and don’t live in the real world.”

“Felicity, are you even listening to yourself right now?” Oliver asked, running a hand through his hair.  “You’re only arguing with me because you want to support your dad.  I bet you don’t even know what the Accords say, and you’re just assuming that Tony’s right.  Well, this time, he’s not--I told him that, and I think if you knew what was going on, you’d tell him the same thing.  You might be the only person who could get him to stop, if you just made him see--”

“You told him?”

“What?” Oliver asked, rising from his crouch a little at her interjection.

Felicity didn’t understand.  Because she thought she had just heard Oliver say he had some kind of conversation with her father--a conversation about the Accords.  When she hadn’t been able to get her father to answer her calls for the last two days, when she was worried sick about him in light of her parents’ separation.  But he had talked to Oliver, of all people?  The man he still only grudgingly accepted as the love of Felicity’s life?

“You . . . told my dad you thought he was wrong about the Accords?” Felicity repeated, staring at him.  “What--how--”

Oliver stood up, exhaling slowly as he did.  “Yes.  Tony called me two nights ago--the same night you left for London--and asked me to publicly support the Accords.  To back him up.”  

“And you told him no?”

“I did.  Because they’re wrong and misguided, and I know your dad’s heart is in the right place, but--”

“No.  Stop,” Felicity said, holding up her hand while trying to maneuver her wheelchair back with her other one.  But it didn’t work, and she only managed to turn her chair to the side, putting herself in profile to him.  He would still be able to see the tears beginning to run down her face.  

She had to cry, because she didn’t believe Oliver would betray her like this.  

The whole time they had been together, he had supported her in everything.  He had never taken sides in her disagreements with her parents, had listened to her complain about alternatively Tony or Pepper yet had never badmouthed either of them.  But now, when her father--when  _ she  _ needed his support the most--Oliver had turned on them.  On her.  

It was like her hallucinations were coming true.  Oliver was never going to stick around for the long haul--just like her mother.  When it got too tough, he cut her off at the knees, knocked her to the ground, pulled the rug out from under her feet.  He probably hadn’t broken up with her because he was scared of the impact on his campaign.  

Looking up at him, Felicity wished she could come up with the words for some kind of dramatic exit speech.  But her tears were flowing in a near-constant stream, and she could barely see him, and she didn’t want to be able to see him, to see his stupid pretty face, to see the man she still loved but now couldn’t respect.  Not anymore.  Not after this.  

And then, she looked down at her feet, wondering what that strange feeling--

Feeling.   _ Feeling _ !  

She could feel her feet!  She could feel her legs!  Like she--like she could  _ move  _ them!

There was no way, with how she was crying, that she could hold her breath for this.  So without any ado, Felicity tried to push her foot off the footrest of her chair.  

And it moved.  It moved!  It slowly dragged across the metal plate before lifting up a little to clear the edge of the footrest, and then she put her foot on the floor.  It was so amazing, she had to try again, with her other foot, and that went even better.  

“Felicity?” Oliver whispered, but all her attention was on her legs and her feet and her body, moving and working and becoming whole again.

Her hands fluttered to the armrests of her chair, to help boost herself up, to steady herself, but she didn’t need them as she slowly rose to her feet.  Now she was crying in a whole new way, yet also . . . because she knew what she had to do right now, and it was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Like a model on the catwalk, she did a pivot turn to face Oliver.  She took two steps towards him, and she could see how he was watching her every move with such joy and happiness on his face, and she let out a sob.

“Felicity, baby--don’t cry,” he said, reaching out for her, but she shook her head.  

She shook her head, and held out the engagement ring he had put on her finger three years before.  She couldn’t say anything through her tears, and Oliver’s face transitioned from happiness to despair so quickly, she couldn’t look at him anymore, she just needed him to take the ring back so she could leave, so she could just go and find someplace to be alone until she finished crying.

Would she ever be finished crying, though?  Felicity wasn’t sure.  Especially not when she felt the brush of Oliver’s calloused fingers as he took the ring from her.  

Sniffing a little, Felicity turned and started walking towards the door.  Her legs felt unsteady beneath her, and she grabbed the handle of her small rolling suitcase as she passed it, using it for balance.  Or maybe her legs were unsteady because she was walking away from Oliver.  From the man she loved.  

Because right now, after what she had learned . . . she couldn’t marry him.  And she was done living a lie.  

But for a moment, as the door to the loft closed behind her, when she heard the click of the door, Felicity wanted to turn around and go back.  To cry in Oliver’s arms and tell him how much he had hurt her and make him work to fix it.  

Felicity Stark had two master’s degrees from MIT.  She was regarded as one of the brightest people on Earth.  Yet right now, she couldn’t see how anyone could fix this.

End, Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sick as a dog for the last few days, so I’m not sure if I gave this chapter the normal eagle-eyed editing that I normally do. Any mistakes or messy bits that slip through are on me.

 

“Miss Stark!  Felicity, how does it feel to walk again?”

How she wanted to respond: “It sucks, because I still have to go to physical therapy, I get weird impulses that make my lower half act unpredictably, and now I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what happens if the implant stops working.”

Yet she was still Felicity Stark, the daughter of Pepper Potts.  So when a reporter hurled that gem at her, Felicity put on a cool smile and responded, “It’s wonderful.  I’m so lucky to have access to the cutting-edge technology at Stark Industries, technology that is letting me live a normal life.  And we hope I’m just the first of many people to be helped by SI’s new Biomechanical Division, based right here in Star City.”

“Any response to the continuing dissension among the Avengers, Ms. Stark?”

What she wanted to say:  “It sucks, because this is my family and they’re fighting with each other and I don’t like it.  I want to bash my father and my favorite uncle over their heads and then lock them in a room together until they work this out and come up with their own version of the Sokovia Accords, since what the UN came up with is pretty bad.  Downright crap, actually.”

That question made her stop and take a few deep breaths, just to maintain her balance and her focus.  Both physically and mentally.  Just like always, though, she managed to come up with a polite, polished response.  “Of course I’m heartbroken by the disagreements that are splitting up the Avengers at this time.  Although I’ve stayed neutral on the topic of the Sokovia Accords, I can see the wisdom in each side’s arguments.  I hope that this matter is resolved as soon as possible.”

“This is a sensitive question, but what have your parents told you about the breakup of their marriage?”

The answer on the tip of her tongue: “It sucks.  That’s what they’d tell me, if either of my parents were talking to me right now.  But they’re not, so all I know is that they’ve broken up and I don’t know why, I don’t know how to help, and it makes me even more miserable about my own breakup.”

Anytime someone asked her about her parents, it was all Felicity could do to keep her mask in place.  The last thing she wanted to do was feed the gossip mill and water the grapevine.  It was easy enough to duck the nosy questions by saying, “Both of my parents are in a difficult place right now and I hope this is just a temporary break, to allow them time to work out their problems.  They’re both in my thoughts and I’m providing as much support to them as I can right now.”

“Do you have a comment on Oliver Queen withdrawing from the mayoral race, Felicity?”

If only she could tell the truth: “It sucks, because Oliver Queen would have been the best mayor this city has ever seen.  Because no one cares about Star City like Oliver does--no one wants this city to prosper, to be a place where people are happy, more than Oliver.  I hope everyone likes being governed by absolute evil, because that’s what you’re getting with Ruvé Adams!”

When a reporter shouted that question at her, it was all Felicity could do not to roll her eyes.  Somehow, she managed to say, “It’s a shame that Star City won’t have the opportunity to make a real choice at this critical time.  I hope everyone will still turn out to vote on a number of ordinances and other ballot questions on Election Day.”  

“Felicity!  What’s it like, being on your own again?”

How she honestly wanted to respond:  “It sucks.  I spent nearly four years with Oliver, and now we’re just over, and I don’t know what to do with myself.  Eating takeout all the time is the worst--that is, when I remember to eat, because I’ve been throwing myself into my work in order to not think about the empty apartment I go home to every night.”  

“Of course it’s a challenging transition,” Felicity responded when she was asked that.  “I wish Oliver the best, of course, but ending our engagement, while difficult, was--was for the best.”  

Basically, her life was a lot of suck right now.  Especially when she was asked how she was handling the breakup with Oliver.  That was the hardest question for her to answer, out of all the hard questions she was getting lately--even if the questions were phrased in a manner that was more like a softball, it still felt like getting nailed with a really fast pitch.  Getting asked how it felt to be over with Oliver made her think of  _ The Little Mermaid _ , only in reverse.  She hadn’t given up her voice to find love, she had given up love in order to find her legs.  

At least she hadn’t had to live out the original fairy tale, with the requirement of killing her lost love in order to not become sea foam.  The Little Mermaid had made the right choice, showing the depth of her love by refusing to kill the prince.  

_ What a cheery line of thought, right before physical therapy _ , Felicity mused.  As much as her life sucked, she didn’t feel like she was walking on knives whenever she took a step.  After all, she was no princess, no damsel in distress.  She could take care of herself.  Starting with getting out of the back of this town car and walking into the office building where Paul had his physical therapy practice.  

Getting used to living without Oliver wasn’t that different from physical therapy.  It was about growing stronger, learning to trust herself again, regaining her confidence.  Just like her appointments, she would have good days and bad days, setbacks and advances.  She had a honeymoon period right now, with the press lobbing softball questions about the breakup, and she needed to take advantage of it by getting stronger, so she could deal with the real questions later.  

Given how much the city had come to love Oliver, whether he was the Green Arrow or the now-former mayoral candidate, she had been surprised she had gotten this honeymoon.  That no one was really pushing her to talk about Oliver or about what was going on with the Avengers--or painting her as the heartless woman who broke the local hero’s heart and was letting her family fall apart.  

It was ironic, because she actually had things to say.  Now that she had read the Accords back to front, now that she knew the terms and conditions they were imposing upon the Avengers . . . she could better understand Steve’s--and Oliver’s--objections.  Of course she also saw her father’s point of view and wanted to support him, but, well--no one really cared about her opinion on the Accords, unless it touched upon how the Avengers felt about them.  

Maybe that was a good thing. 

“Miss Stark?  Have you changed your mind about attending your physical therapy appointment today?”

Blowing out a breath, Felicity met Rob’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.  “No, I haven’t changed my mind.  I’m going.”  

“Yes, of course, Miss Stark,” Rob said, smiling a little.

After four years of being her bodyguard, Rob had learned how to be friendly enough with her that it wasn’t weird, how he followed her everywhere, while still maintaining his professional composure.  While that was nice most of the time, right now she felt the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” she reiterated, scooping up her bag and grabbing her coffee.  “I’ll be done in an hour.”  

“Very good, Miss Stark,” he replied, all business now.  

With a shake of her head and a rueful smile, Felicity climbed out of the car and headed inside.  This was her new normal.  It wasn’t so bad.  

Unless she thought of the big, empty, aching hole in the middle of her chest.

XXX

The beeping of her phone finally penetrated her consciousness and with one hand, not looking away from the screen in front of her, Felicity pressed the button for the intercom.  

“Miss Stark?”  

“Yes, Gerry?” she asked, tapping on her keyboard.  

“Natasha Romanoff is on line three for you?  At least, I hope she still is--the connection isn’t very good but she was very insistent on talking to you, Miss Stark,” Gerry said, sounding nervous. 

It took a moment for Gerry’s words to sink in, but then Felicity sat up straight.  Nat was calling her?  Although it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for Natasha to get in touch with her, this phone call made Felicity’s ‘something’s wrong’ antenna go up, given the current situation. The Accords were being signed today--and by only half of the Avengers.  Natasha was with the half that were signing, at a special UN meeting in Vienna.  She glanced at the clock and did the math as she picked up the phone’s receiver.  

“Nat?  It must be nearly midnight there--if you are in Vienna,” Felicity said, realizing she wasn’t positive about her favorite aunt’s location.  

“I am,” Nat said, her voice echoing slightly.  “Although probably not for long.  Have you heard from your dad?”  

“No . . . I’ve been trying to reach him, but whenever I call, he doesn’t pick up,” Felicity said slowly.  “Nat?”  

She muttered something in Russian, then spoke.  “You didn’t hear what happened?”

Before Felicity could say anything, one way or the other, Nat went on.  “Felicity, the Accords signing was bombed.  Multiple casualties, including King T’Chaka of Wakanda.  And they’re saying Bucky did it.”  

“Oh, God,” Felicity breathed out.  She knew Bucky hadn’t been himself for a while, that he had been suffering from a kind of amnesia, but an assassination on this level?  There was no way he could come back from that--not really.  And this must be destroying Steve, after losing Peggy . . . 

Tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder, Felicity began typing furiously.  “What do you need from me, Nat?”  

“Nothing.”  

Felicity nearly let the phone drop from where she had it cradled.  “What?” she said in surprise.  

“You’re Tony’s daughter but Steve’s favorite,” Natasha said quietly.  “You’re Bucky’s favorite, too.  Your loyalties are divided.  After everything you’ve gone through in the last four months, no one would blame you for sitting this one out.  Besides, if you tried to do anything, you’d be viewed with suspicion by pretty much everyone.  Thought to be a spy for one side or the other.”  

“Nat, you can’t just tell me that Bucky’s involved, meaning Steve’s involved, not to mention my father and you and everyone else I love, and expect me to not do something--”  

“I called to tell you to stay out of this, Felicity.  This situation is getting worse by the minute, and it would be for the best if you stayed neutral.”  The chill in Natasha’s voice made Felicity remember just how deadly the Black Widow could be.  Nat wouldn’t hesitate to keep her off the board if that was what she judged to be for the best, even though Felicity knew Nat would hold back against her.  

And really . . . could Felicity pick a side?  It was bad enough when she thought she was choosing between her father and Steve.  Now that this struggle had become horribly personal, between Oliver’s decision to be publicly anti-Accords, and now with the allegations of Bucky’s horrible, deadly actions, the idea of being able to make a choice had become laughable.  

“Nat . . . what am I supposed to do?” Felicity asked, her voice shaking.  

“No one will attack you or come after you--you know that,” Nat replied quickly.  “Even if someone tried, you’ve got Oliver.  All I’m saying is, be careful what you say and keep your eyes open.”  

Nat must not have heard about her breakup with Oliver, Felicity thought dully.  Although Felicity knew, deep down, that if she was in danger, she wouldn’t hesitate to call Oliver, messy personal dynamics notwithstanding.  Just like he would automatically protect her, whether she was his fiancée or not.  

“All right,” she said grudgingly.  “I’ll stay neutral.  But if things get any worse, I’m gonna have to do something, Nat.  You understand that, right?”

“I do.  I don’t like it, but I understand.  I’ll try and knock some sense into Tony so he’ll call you,” Nat said.  

“Cognitive recalibration, right?” Felicity asked, hoping her voice sounded cheerful even as she felt tears prick her eyes.  

A rusty chuckle erupted from Nat.  “I think your dad’s head is a lot harder’s than Clint, but yeah.  Take care of yourself, Felicity.”  

“You, too, Nat,” Felicity said, letting the phone drop and pressing her hand against her eyes.  Her shoulders shook as she tried to control the tears that wanted to flow.  But Felicity had a strict no crying rule.  Not after she spent the first three days after breaking up with Oliver crying at the drop of a hat.  When she realized she could spend the rest of her life crying if she wasn’t careful, Felicity had told herself she had to be strong.  She had to stop with the tears, had to stop with the anger and the fear and the sadness.  There was no time to fall apart.  Not with everything that was happening around her.    

Taking a deep breath, Felicity straightened up.  She made sure the phone was back in the cradle, then she smoothed her hair back and took the mirror out of her desk drawer to check her makeup.  Satisfied that she hadn’t done any damage, she dropped the mirror back in the drawer and got back to work.  

There was always work.  

XXX

With a final huff and puff, Felicity pushed through the discomfort and ran the last few yards of her mile run.  The sweat ran down her back and she felt a stabbing pain in her side, but her legs felt strong, powerful, whole.  Just like they used to feel when she ran a mile.  

Not that she ran all that much before.  The elliptical had always been more her speed, since she could use it in a nice, climate-controlled gym, with TVs showing old  _ Friends  _ reruns.  But now that Paul had cleared her to start working out again, and spring was finally arriving in Star City, it felt like the right time to go to her local park and go for a run.  To follow through on a promise she had made herself.

In those dark days when she thought she would never get out of her chair, before she had found out about her implant, she had cursed herself for how she had taken her body for granted.  Now that she had the use of her legs again, Felicity didn’t ever want to forget all she could do.  And now that she was alone, it seemed wise to be able to run for longer than a block.  

Although she might have overdone it, she had to admit to herself as she sucked in air, her chest heaving.  

“Felicity?”  

The familiar voice made her head snap up, and she quickly straightened up in spite of her side stitch.  “Digg.  And Lyla.  Hi.”  

“It’s so good to see you,” Lyla replied, stepping forward to lightly kiss Felicity’s cheek.

“Oh, I’m all sweaty--” Felicity said, but Lyla grinned and waved aside Felicity’s objections.  

“I don’t care, since it’s great that you’re up and running.  We saw you finish strong,” the older woman told her with a smile.  

The warmth and support in Lyla’s voice made Felicity take a few deep breaths.  She wiped some sweat from her face with her forearm and did her best to smile.  “Thanks.  It feels good to be out on my own power.”

Digg held a bottle of water out to her.  “I don’t know if you brought one of your own, but you look like you could use this.”  

Nodding her thanks, Felicity took the bottle and drank greedily, downing half of it.  “I didn’t have one--thanks.  What brings you out here?” she asked when she took a break.  

“Just wanted to enjoy the nice weather before I get back to ARGUS.  I might be going underground for a while, thanks to Damian Darhk,” Lyla said, her face growing serious.  

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Felicity said, looking back and forth between the two of them.  “I . . . I didn’t realize that ARGUS had gotten on Darhk’s radar.”  

“We have, in a big way,” Lyla said.  She looked at Digg, a curious expression on her face.  Whatever she saw in her husband’s eyes must have given her some kind of answer, because Lyla looked back to Felicity, a smaller version of her earlier smile on her face.  “I think John wants to have a few words with you, so I’ll let you two talk in private.”  

Felicity opened her mouth to protest, but she didn’t get the chance.  Lyla kissed Digg on the cheek and started walking away before she could even find the words.  

“You don’t want to just stop after a run--you need to walk and cool down,” Digg said, gently turning her and leading her in the opposite direction from Lyla.

“I know that--I was gonna do that,” Felicity said, gripping the bottle of water in her hand.  She rubbed at her side, grateful the stitch was nearly gone, and did her best to match Digg’s pace.  “But what do you want to talk to me about?  What’s going on with Darhk--is he moving against ARGUS now?”

Digg sighed softly and nodded.  “Yeah.  You remember how the Ghosts invaded ARGUS, looking for something called Rubicon?  Something they wanted so badly, they were willing to kill Waller in the hopes of getting it?”

She nodded slowly as she tried to recall the exact details.  Since the attack against ARGUS had happened while she was in the hospital for the implant surgery, she could only go by what she had heard from Oliver.  

“Yeah . . . but what is Rubicon?” she asked, taking a sip of water.  

After a moment of hesitation while he looked around them, Digg leaned in closer to her.  “It’s the key to the world’s nuclear weapons.  A way to lock them all down, in case the warheads ever landed in the wrong hands.  Or to set them all off, when a bad guy has control of them.”  

Her mouth fell open as her mind processed Digg’s words.  “That is an awful idea.”

He snorted softly.  “Yeah, that’s becoming clear.  ARGUS controls Rubicon, and now that Lyla is in charge of ARGUS . . . well, it looks like she’s going to have to go to an ARGUS security bunker, to make sure Darhk doesn’t get control of Rubicon.”  He paused, his face softening.  “She doesn’t like it, but since she’s four months pregnant . . .”

“Oh, John!” Felicity said, throwing her arms around him.  “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he replied softly, patting her back.  “Lyla hates that she’s got to go into the bunker, but she knows it’s for the best.”  

Nodding, Felicity drew back and looked up at him.  “Are you happy she’s going to be safe, or worried that you won’t be there with her, keeping her safe?”

“Both,” Digg said with a small smile.  “Plus, Lyla is just as worried about me, facing off against Darhk.”  

“Of course she is,” Felicity said, resting a hand on Digg’s forearm.  “But she knows how good you are.  And you’re not alone out there.  You’ve got Roy and Thea and--and Oliver, too.”  

If Digg noticed how her voice caught when she mentioned Oliver, he was enough of a gentleman not to draw attention to it.  Not directly, at least.  

“That was what I was hoping to talk to you about,” Digg said quietly.  “If you would be willing to help out a little, so I could be out in the field more.  With your help,  Oliver would have all that he needs to take out Darhk.”  

A chill went over Felicity, one that had nothing to do with the sweat that was drying on her forehead and the back of her neck.  She took a few steps away from Digg, hearing the plastic of the water bottle crinkle as she squeezed the bottle tightly.  

She had thought that part of her life was over.  Even before the breakup with Oliver, she had thought it was over.  Being in the wheelchair had made her painfully aware of her limitations.  And the biggest one had always been her complete lack of suitability for the hero life.  It wasn’t ever anything she wanted to do, to suit up like her dad or train like Natasha in order to take out evildoers.  Falling for Oliver, playing her part in stopping the Undertaking, becoming part of Oliver’s team--those things had fooled her into thinking that she had been wrong.  That she could be a hero.

Yet she knew now she didn’t really have the stomach for it.  Not with how she had felt the last time she had tried to help, when her mistakes had put Digg’s life in jeopardy.  

“I’m sorry to ask you, Felicity, but we need you.  I don’t think we can take out Darhk without your help.”  

“I don’t know how you can say that, John.  I’m the last person you need right now,” Felicity replied softly, gazing out at the park.  Watching all the people walking or jogging, spending time with their loved ones, all with no idea of the clouds lurking in wait to blot out the sun. 

Slowly, she turned to face him and took a deep breath at his kind, supportive expression.  “And I’m the last person Oliver needs right now, too.”  

“You could work remotely.  You wouldn’t have to see Oliver,” Digg offered.  He stepped towards her.  “Felicity, I know you’re facing a world of problems.  Your parents, the Avengers, your recovery, your relationship with Oliver . . . it’s more than anyone should handle, let alone within a few months.  Maybe helping take out Darhk will give you some insight into your other problems.”  

She frowned, thinking that over.  It was a perspective she hadn’t considered, not with her lack of confidence.  But maybe Digg was on to something.  If she really focused on working to take down Darhk, perhaps it would let these other problems recede to the back of her mind, allowing her time to process.  And once she had processed everything, she might come up with some kind of solution.  A way to navigate through the messy relationships she had with the Avengers, or something that could help her parents, or . . . or even a reason to believe she and Oliver weren’t over for good, despite her breaking their engagement and literally walking out on him.

If nothing else, it wouldn’t really matter if she solved her problems while Damian Darhk was destroying the world.  She knew the world was in danger from Damian Darhk . . . with such high stakes, could she really sit this one out?  She couldn’t help the Avengers, she didn’t know how to help her parents.  But this, helping the team?  She could do that.

“Does Oliver know about this?” she asked him quietly.  

“He knows I was going to talk to you,” Digg said, which didn’t really answer her question.  Because her question wasn’t really if Oliver knew about this, but if he was okay with her getting involved, especially after she had turned him down so many times, and if he still wanted her to help, and if he missed her like she missed him . . . 

No, that didn’t matter now.  The world was at stake and she was acting like a girl with a crush.  She had been the one to break up with Oliver, after all, and for a good reason.  If he wasn’t willing to support her father by at least remaining neutral on the Accords, that was like not supporting her.  

“All right,” she said.  “I’ll work remotely.  Let me know what you need me to research, and when the team wants to make a move.”

“That’s someplace to start,” Digg said, smiling at her.  “Thank you, Felicity.”  

“You’re welcome,” she said, before waving him towards her.  “C’mere, lemme give you another hug.  I’ve missed you, Digg.”  

His massive tree-trunk arms wrapped around her, making her feel warm and sheltered.  “I’ve missed you, too, Felicity,” he said quietly, his voice rumbling in his chest.  

For a moment, she didn’t want the hug to end.  Because it was as close as she had come to feeling safe in two weeks, ever since the breakup with Oliver.  Not exactly safe, no--not like how she would feel if she was hugging Oliver--

Felicity cut that thought off and stepped back from Digg.  She brushed a strand of hair back out of her eyes and gave him a friendly yet polite smile.  “Right, when do you want me to get started?”

“Tonight?  I’ll tell the team and we’ll start with something easy, just a simple patrol,” Digg replied, resting a hand on her shoulder.  

“Tonight.  Yeah, good idea.  Rip the Band-aid off,” Felicity said, nodding and hoping she sounded confident.  “Let’s do this.”

XXX

Her plans to work remotely lasted a grand total of one hour.  Then the lag between the computers in the lair and her computer was affecting the mission, and it was decided to reconvene in the lair the next evening.  

Which meant she walked into the lair, face to face with her former fiancé, his erstwhile bodyguard, her former fiancé’s sister and the closest thing to a sister for Felicity, and said sister’s boyfriend.  

“Felicity,” Oliver said as she came down the stairs into the lair.  There was so much left unsaid, she thought the only thing he could say was her name.  

And she certainly felt the same way.  

“Oliver,” she said, imagining she was her mother right now.  Wishing she had a tenth of Pepper’s polish and class and grace under pressure.  Pepper would know how to handle working with an ex-fiancé.  It couldn’t have been that different from before she married Tony, when they were in love with each other and couldn’t figure things out.  But since that was long before Felicity had even been a twinkle in either of her parents’ eyes, it wasn’t like she knew what that was like.  

Giving her head a shake, Felicity crossed over to the computers, setting down her bag.  “What’s the plan for tonight?  Following up on this ‘Genesis’ chatter I found last night?”

Oliver nodded slowly.  “Yes.  Although we also need to make sure Darhk doesn’t get any closer to Rubicon--or in other words, Lyla.  She’ll need extra protection beyond her roaming ARGUS bunker.  John?”

“I’m on it,” Digg said, looking up from checking his guns.  

“Good.  Thea, you’ll be backup for Digg.  Roy, you and I will be investigating Genesis . . .”  Oliver paused and cleared his throat.  “Felicity, if you could tap into the Ghosts’ communications, see what you can find out that could help either of us--”

“You got it,” Felicity said brightly, sitting down at the computers, letting her fingers fly across the keyboard.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see everyone not moving.  She glanced back at them over her shoulder.  “Shouldn’t you be moving already?  Evil’s afoot and all that!”  

That got a huff of laughter from Roy.  “Good to have you back, blondie.”  

Felicity gave Roy a quick smile and lifted her hand in a wave.  “Go on, scoot.”  

“Come on, Thea, let’s move,” Digg said, breaking the strange tension in the room.  Amid the sound of weapons being holstered and stowed and boots thumping against the floor, Felicity thought she heard Oliver say something quietly to Roy, but she focused on what she was seeing on her screens.  Trying to figure out what this ‘Genesis’ project of Darhk’s was, looking into the levels of protection for Rubicon, researching the current store of nuclear weapons around the world--it was a far cry from the kind of research she had been doing in the last month: wedding plans and biostimulant inputs and SI’s stock prices.  Not that she was researching wedding plans any longer.  

“Felicity.”  

Her hands spasmed slightly against the keys.  She spread her fingers wide, then balled her hands into fists before turning to look up at Oliver.  

His shoulders looked strong and unyielding, the line of his jaw pronounced.  His bow was in one hand, his knuckles white around it.  

“I’m sorry for this,” he said quietly.  “I knew you didn’t want this for yourself.  I--I fought John about approaching you.”  

God, his face . . . the pain in his eyes, the absolute blankness of his expression unless you looked in his eyes . . . she had done this to him, walking out on him.  She had left him behind, and the first time they were seeing each other again, it was because someone else had come to convince her to return to the team.  

She didn’t know how to put into words what she was feeling, but she didn’t like it.  She didn’t want to feel like this--she didn’t want to feel this much.  

What Would Pepper Do?  

Taking a deep breath, Felicity did her best to smile.  “It’s okay, Oliver.  I think when nuclear weapons falling into the hands of a madman becomes a thing, objections tend to get overruled.”

“I’m still sorry.  Especially because . . . it’s good to have you here, Felicity.”  

There was so much she wanted to do in this moment.  Leave and run far away.  Call Caitlin or Laurel and sob about the mistakes she had made.  Throw herself into Oliver’s arms.  But her body didn’t seem capable of moving.  It actually made her wonder if the bioimplant had failed, so she quickly shifted her feet.  Relief flowed through her when her limbs responded.  

“You--you should get going.  Evil guy trying to get nukes, remember?” she said quickly, moving her chair back a little.  “I’ll relay any info I find.  You can count on me.”  

“I know,” Oliver said quietly.  His eyes held her for an endless moment, and then he turned and made for the stairs, his boots silent unlike the others’.  

Watching him walk away, Felicity felt her hands trembling, her knees shaking.  She was glad she was sitting down, so she didn’t have to worry about her legs failing her.  And she was really glad she had a job to do, so she had something else to focus on.  Just like Digg had suggested, she could push aside her problems to concentrate on what was really important: saving the world.

Felicity put her hands back on the keyboard with a deep breath.  She started tapping away, setting up searches to run down information on Rubicon and Genesis and tasking all kinds of traffic and security cameras to look for Ghosts or any sign of Darhk.  In her ear was the quiet crackle of the comm devices, Roy and Oliver discussing where to start looking while Digg gave Thea directions towards the ARGUS rolling bunker that was protecting Lyla.  

It all seemed like the calm before the storm, so when her cell phone rang, she didn’t think there was anything wrong with answering it.  Muting the comms, she picked up the phone, noticing at the last minute who it was.

“Hi, Mom,” she said after a pause.  Because this was the first time she had spoken to her mother in weeks.  The first time she had even heard her voice since right before her breakup with Oliver.  

Did her mother even know about that?  Felicity had no idea what Pepper knew.  If her mother had been keeping tabs on what was happening, or if she had totally disconnected from the outside world and had spent the last month at a spa.  Not that she could see Pepper doing that at all.  

“Hi, honey.”  Pepper’s voice sounded tired, sad, lonely--yet like she was trying to put on a brave face.  “Is this a bad time?”

“No . . . although I don’t have much time, so what’s going on?  To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”  

There was a moment, and then Pepper responded tentatively.  “We seem to have been playing phone tag for a while, so I wanted to try reaching you.  I . . . I heard about your breakup with Oliver.  Felicity, I don’t understand, but are you sure that is what you wanted to do?”  

“Why do you ask, Mom?” Felicity asked coolly.  

“Because I’m worried about you!  Because this breakup came out nowhere, especially since I know how much you love Oliver--”

“As much as you love Dad?  Oh, I’m sorry.  Loved.  Since you broke up,” Felicity said, her words coming out clipped and harsh.  

Pepper gasped softly, her breaths loud and ragged.  Felicity’s hands trembled and her forehead felt clammy, but she kept speaking, kept hurting her mother with every word.  “You left him.  You gave up on him, on your marriage, because--why?  It got too hard, after nearly thirty years of marriage?  After everything you’ve gone through together, what changed?  Do you know how heartbroken Dad is?  He can’t even talk about it--he can’t even talk to  _ me _ , period.  He’s been dodging my calls for weeks, when I need to talk to him--I need my dad.  And you--you disappeared, too.  One message in a month, Mom.  Do you know what I’ve been going through?  The last thing I needed was losing my parents, but I have, and--”  

Her eyes were blurred from the tears filling them, but she quickly wiped at them when she realized there was an alert flashing on one of the screens.  

“I have to go,” she said, her heart racing.

“Felicity--”  

“Bye, Mom,” Felicity said, ignoring the clear sounds of her mother crying.  She hung up the phone and took the split second to compose her voice before she pressed the button on her earpiece.  “Spartan, Speedy, the signal on the bunker is gone--what’s wrong?”

There was a few coughs, then Thea gritted out, “Ghosts.”  

“They got Rubicon,” Digg said, his voice hoarse.  

Her blood went cold, but Felicity tried to focus.  Yet she still needed to ask--“Is Lyla okay?”

“She’s fine,” Digg replied.  “Felicity--the nukes--”

“Already working the problem,” Felicity told him.  “Take care of Lyla.”  

Looking at her screens, she began digging into the Rubicon protocol.  She cursed as she realized that even with how good these computers were, they just weren’t fast enough.  If she wanted to disable Rubicon and prevent Darhk from firing every nuclear warhead on earth, she needed more processing power.  

“Felicity, what do you need from me?”  

Oliver’s voice was controlled enough that only someone who knew him could hear the worry and concern underneath.  

“No distractions while I try to stop this.  Wait--go to Stark Industries.  There’s a piece of tech I need.  I’ll get Curtis Holt to meet you with it in the lobby.  Go!” she barked, grabbing her cell phone and hitting the contact for Curtis.

Her mind was moving faster than her fingers could.  She was making mistakes and Felicity took a breath, trying to calm down as she waited for Curtis to pick up.  When he finally answered, babbling about some project, Felicity cut him off with no guilt.  

“Get the FS processor mark 2,” she ordered him.  “Meet the Green Arrow in the lobby.”  

“Felicity?  What--”  

“Now, Curtis!  The fate of the world depends on it,” she said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the screens in front of her.  

She waited for his agreement before she disconnected and returned to hacking Rubicon, trying to overwrite it so Darhk would be unable to use the protocol.  At the same time, she kept monitoring the nuclear stockpiles, using that as another way of keeping tabs on Darhk.  

When Oliver appeared with the processor, followed by the rest of the team, she snapped her fingers and pointed at Digg.  He was the most computer savvy member of the team.  “Digg, I need you to keep an eye on this screen.  Tell me if the number here changes,” she told him, waving him over to her computers.  “Oliver, processor!”  

He withdrew the plastic-encased computer chip, one that looked nearly identical to her first processor, the one that Malcolm Merlyn had wanted so badly.  But this one was exponentially faster, capable of trillions more calculations per second.  It would hopefully give her the edge she needed once it was installed in the lair’s main server.  

Hopefully. 

The anxiety and nerves were making her sweat.  She probably smelled disgusting and she felt like time was moving in slow motion.  It was like being back in her chair--like she wasn’t good enough, fast enough, smart enough to do this.  

“Felicity!”  

Digg’s voice penetrated her haze, just as she finished installing the processor.  Running back to the computers, she pushed Digg aside and took in the screens.  “Oh, God--Darhk got it working,” she breathed out, hitting the keys and trying to stop Darhk.  To stop the nukes.  

There had been a few times in her life when Felicity had fallen into a zone like this.  When she lost all sense of her body, when her physical form solely existed to carry out her thoughts.  As she worked to stop Damian Darhk from destroying the world, it was the most extreme version of that sensation Felicity had ever experienced.  She lost all track of time, space, other people.  

All that mattered were the nuclear weapons.  

It was taking too long.  Felicity could feel the exhaustion chasing her, trying to catch her.  But she wasn’t done yet.  She was nearly there--there was just one more--

A warhead targeting Monument Point.  A community of more than a million, with suburbs that added another half million.  The devastation would be off the charts--and she couldn’t stop the nuke.

She could only divert it.  Minimize the casualties.  

Her fingers moved, cramping as she pounded the keys.  It wasn’t a conscious choice, her retargeting of the missile.  It was like she was completely divorced from her emotions and pure, cold logic had taken over.  

Which is how she changed the flight path of the warhead, sending it to the small city of Havenrock, instead of the metropolis of Monument Point.  

Felicity closed her eyes once it was done.  She let her head fall, lifting her hand to pull her glasses off.  They fell into her lap as she breathed out.  

A hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed gently.  “Felicity?” Oliver asked.  

Turning slowly in her chair, she looked up at him, opening her mouth to explain.  But she immediately saw that she didn’t have to explain.  

He knew.  He knew what she was.  

A mass murderer.  

End, Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been a lot of strong reactions from readers to this fic, and particularly to Felicity breaking up with Oliver. Many people are saying it doesn’t make sense, as if that means I’m writing Felicity wrong or I haven’t given enough reason for the breakup. The thing is, the breakup not making sense is the point--Felicity is so lost and confused at this point, she doesn’t know which end is up. She’s making bad decisions, decisions that go against what she really wants, because she’s under an incredible amount of stress, suffering from many negative emotions, and is refusing to deal with her stress and emotions. She’s on the verge of reaching rock bottom with this chapter, and then the rest of the fic will be about her repairing herself and making up for the hurt she has caused to herself and in others. It’s a slow process, both falling apart and putting yourself back together. 
> 
> If that isn’t the kind of fic you want to read, or if the progress is too slow for you, you might want to either stop reading this story entirely or hold off until there are a few chapters posted for you to read. Thank you.

 

Felicity stared at Oliver, seeing the devastated, heartbroken expression on his face.  The guilt practically poured off him.  Yet there was no reason for him to feel guilty.  He wasn’t the one who killed thousands of people so that hundreds of thousands could live.

Closing her eyes, Felicity felt a numbness settle over her.  A disconnect between herself and reality.  A blissful fog that didn’t hurt, that didn’t look at her with expectations, that couldn’t be disappointed in her.  It was a fugue state she didn’t want to leave.

Blink.  

Light seeped around the edges of the blackout drapes drawn over the windows.  Felicity winced and rubbed at her eyes, trying to place where she was, before she remembered: in her apartment.  The apartment she had moved into after breaking up with Oliver, the apartment that was sterile and bland and not her, because she hadn’t felt any desire to decorate it, to install D.A.V.I.S., to do anything to make it her own.  All she had done was buy the best curtains money could buy and paid for them to be hung over every window.  So she could sleep.  And shut out the world.

Blink.

“Ms. Stark, forgive my anger, but you can’t expect the Board of Directors to accept your answer.”  

The smart screen in front of her was wiped clean of its normal presentation of multiple newscasts, stock price updates, and social media feeds.  Instead, it was filled with a video link to the Board of Directors of Stark Industries, holding an emergency meeting in light of her actions.  

Actions she couldn’t explain to the Board.  Since the last thing she wanted to do was tell them she had used an untested, top-secret prototype to stop a magical madman from destroying the world in a nuclear armageddon.  

The prototype shouldn’t even have been removed from the Biomechanical Division’s lab, let alone been taken from the SI building.  

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any more of an explanation than I have,” Felicity said in a monotone.  She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap, her skin so pale against the black material of her dress.  

The men and women gathered around the conference table in Los Angeles exchanged glances.  “Ms. Stark, with your parents both taking leaves of absence from the company, you are the only family member still involved in Stark Industries,” one of the board said, but Felicity closed her eyes and tuned her out.

Blink.

Her phone was ringing.  

She looked around, feeling confused.  She was sitting at her desk, in her office, wearing a gray-and-white print dress.  It looked new . . . at least, she didn’t recognize it.  

And her cell phone was still ringing, the vibrations sending it across the glass surface of her desk.  

Reaching out, Felicity snatched the phone before it fell to the floor and put it to her ear.  “Hello?”

“It’s done.”  

At the sound of Oliver’s voice, Felicity felt something change inside herself.  It became easier to focus.  Everything seemed clearer--except for why Oliver was calling her with cryptic statements.  

“Oliver?” she asked, knowing it was him, of course.  She would always recognize his voice.  

“Damian Darhk.  I killed him.  He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”  

It was easy for her to hear what he left unsaid.  That Damian would never hurt her again.  That Oliver blamed himself for the injury Damian had inflicted upon her, and for how their lives had fallen apart because Damian had come to Star City and Oliver had stood in his way.

A swell of emotion washed over her--emotions she didn’t like and didn’t want.  She took a few breaths, trying to think of something to say.  All that was coming to mind was platitudes.  Patronizing words that would give Oliver no comfort.  Especially not coming from her.  And besides, she couldn’t see anything wrong with a man like Damian being dead.

“Good.  It was the right thing to do.”

There was a long silence.  Felicity swallowed, looking down at her desk.  Had she been too honest with him?  After what she had done, was he now seeing her in a new light?  He had to be, really, even though she couldn't remember what had happened in the immediate aftermath of Havenrock.  Honestly, she couldn’t really remember much of anything.  She had to check the date on her computer to figure out it had been four days since she had wiped a town off the map.  Had anyone from the team checked on her during those four days?  Perhaps they had simply been too focused on eliminating Darhk, like they should.  But they hadn’t needed her to defeat him.  

Or maybe it was because they didn’t trust her.  They didn’t want her around.  Which she understood.  She was a mass murderer.  How could her former friends--how could the man who used to love her--believe she was anything but a killer?  How could heroes care about someone like her?  

“How are you, Felicity?”  

His voice was soft, almost shy.  There was something in his voice that made her stiffen up.  It wasn’t his job to act all worried and concerned about her.  Not anymore.  Just like it wasn’t her job to worry about him.  

“I’m fine,” she told him briskly, moving some papers around on her desk.  “Congratulations on being appointed mayor, by the way.”

It was funny how in the midst of her fugue, she could remember Oliver becoming mayor, since Ruvé Adams had disappeared or been killed or something--she couldn’t remember what.  Yet she knew Oliver was the mayor now, and since the last thing she wanted to talk about was how she was doing, it was time for a change of subject.  Which might be camouflaged as a test--to see whether Oliver would push her to open up.    

The only noise from the other end of the phone was a quiet rustling, then Oliver cleared his throat.  “I’m only interim mayor.  I’ll have to stand for election in August, so people can decide if I deserve a full term.”

“You’ve got my vote.  I mean, I’m sure you’ll prove yourself to the voters,” she said quickly.  

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  “I . . . I’m handling all of this on my own, so I appreciate the vote of confidence.”  

Felicity blinked, because there was something in his voice--  “I don’t understand.”  

“It’s not like being the Green Arrow and having a team,” Oliver said hesitantly.  “John and Lyla are going into deep cover until the baby arrives.  They’ve already left Star City for an ARGUS safehouse.  And Thea and Roy . . . they’re taking some time off.  Doing some traveling.”  

Oh.  So Oliver was all alone.  Which shouldn’t concern her in the slightest.  It didn’t.  This wasn’t a line of thought she wanted to follow.  She needed to get off the phone with Oliver and get back to work.  

“I’m sure they’ll all be back before the election,” she said, shifting her cell phone so she could have both hands free.  “I have to go, Oliver, but I’m glad you took care of Darhk and that everyone is safe.”  

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied quietly.

She openly scoffed.  “I wasn’t there, Oliver--you did it without me.”  

“Felicity--”  

“I have to go,” she interrupted.  “Bye, Oliver.”  

Setting her phone face-down on her desk, Felicity got back to her work.  She was on thin ice thanks to taking the FS-2 prototype--as much as someone whose last name was on the building could be--so she was doing her best to be a symbol for SI’s employees and the Board of Directors.  As long as both her parents were apparently AWOL, it was up to her to be the face of Stark Industries.  

Even though she didn’t feel up to being the face of anything right now.  At least she had work to help her stay--

“Miss Stark.”  

“Oh my God!” Felicity yelped, jumping in her chair at the unexpected and slightly terrifying arrival of Vision, appearing in the middle of her office.  “Vision!  What the hell?”  She put her hand on her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart, before she looked at the aubergine being now floating before her.  

He tilted his head, looking confused, and then his eyes widened slightly.  “Oh.  Yes.  I was supposed to use the door, wasn’t I?  I overlooked that social nicety again, due to the gravity of the--”  

“Vision, what are you doing here?” Felicity interrupted, straightening up in her chair.  Something about Vision had always rubbed her the wrong way, enough for her to keep their interactions minimal.  It hadn’t been difficult, since he primarily moved between Avengers Tower and the new compound in upstate New York.  So she didn’t understand why he was here in Star City.

“Mr. Stark sent me.  He--”

“My dad?” she said, jumping up and moving around her desk to get closer to him.  “You’ve talked to him?  Is he okay?  Did they figure out what happened with the bombing?  The last I heard, everyone suspected it was Bucky, which is just impossible, even though I know it’s also possible, but--but that’s just not Bucky, and--”

Suddenly, she couldn’t talk.  She could feel her lips moving, but no sound was coming from her mouth.  And there seemed to be something wrong with her throat--there was a pressure there--  .  

“I have immobilized your vocal cords, Miss Stark.  I know you have several questions, and Mr. Stark sent me here to bring you to the Avengers compound.  He will explain everything to you there.”  Vision tilted his head to the side, then the jewel in the center of his forehead glowed for a moment.

“--I know Steve is--”  The next few words that she had wanted to say spilled out, before Felicity caught herself and took a breath.  It was all she could do to not cry, because . . . because she felt violated.  To be silenced like that, against her will, to lose something that was such a part of her--it had been almost worse than being in the chair.

“Do not do that to me ever again,” she said, meeting Vision’s eyes.  “In fact, don’t do that to anyone, ever.”  

A confused, uncertain, puzzled expression appeared on Vision’s face.  Like he just couldn’t understand these silly, emotional human beings.  But right now, Felicity didn’t really care about spelling it out for him, or having a conversation with someone who gave her the willies.  

She picked up her phone and her purse and turned back to Vision.  “My father is at the Avengers compound?”  

“Yes, Miss Stark.  You should . . . prepare yourself.  Much has happened, and--”  

Without bothering to listen to him, Felicity walked away, her heels clicking on the tile floors as she looked at her phone, arranging for the SI jet to transport her to the Avengers compound.  She knew she was being rude, something her mother would have taken her to task for.  Her father probably would have told her to stop being racist and acting like Vision was a thing, simply because he was an android brought to life by a mystical gem.

But he wasn’t only an android.  He was an android who sounded just like J.A.R.V.I.S.  She might have been able to talk to J.A.R.V.I.S., find out what was going on so she was prepared for what she might find out.  But she couldn’t talk to Vision.  

Right now, all she wanted was to see her father, and know if he was all right, and maybe, just maybe, find out if something in her world was okay.

XXX

Felicity watched as the jet taxied towards the hangar, whipping her hair around her face.  Then, she walked towards the door into the compound, placing her hand against the scanner pad and waiting for access to be granted.  

It seemed to take forever for the pad to turn green and the locks to click open.  Yanking on the door, she hurried inside, eager to find her father and discover just what was going on.  Because what she had found out, when she had done some catching up on the plane, had shown just how much things in her world were not okay.

Steve was on the run and considered a fugitive?  Sam and Wanda had been broken out of the Raft--which was supposed to be impossible--while charges against Clint and Scott had been pending but then dropped?  Bucky had been cleared of all charges and some Sokovian named Zemo had been identified as the Vienna bomber?  And Rhodey--the amazing, strong, capable Col. James Rhodes--was paralyzed?

There wasn’t enough context for her to understand what had happened.  There had been some kind of confrontation at an airport in Germany, which probably explained the charges against Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott.  But she didn’t understand what had caused Steve to go rogue now that the charges against Bucky were dismissed or why her father hadn’t contacted her until now, besides the hundreds of other questions she had.  

“Dad?” she called out, her voice echoing in the vast space, bouncing off the marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows.  “Dad!”  

A door opened at the far end of the lobby behind her.  Whirling around, Felicity saw her father--even in silhouetted form, she would know him anywhere.  He said something and waved at her, but Felicity didn’t hear him over the blood rushing through her ears.  

“Dad!” she said, wrapping her arms around him tightly.  She pressed her face against his shoulder, holding back her tears as she held him with everything she had.  

“I was so worried and scared--”  

“I’m okay, princess,” he interrupted her, quietly and gently.  He hugged her back, one of his hands lightly patting the middle of her back as he did so.  Felicity closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to get herself under control.

And then the hug stopped feeling good and she quickly stepped back, straightening her clothes.  “Is Rhodey here?  Is he okay?  What’s happening with Steve and Bucky?  Were there any other injuries?”

“Easy there, Felicity,” her father said, rubbing her arms.  “C’mon in here and we’ll--”

“Don’t patronize me, Dad,” Felicity said in annoyance.  “I’m not some little girl.”  

If only he knew that she wasn’t his princess anymore.  How would Tony react when he found out what she had done?  Or did he already know?  Was that why he had sent for her--to hold her responsible for Havenrock?

She didn’t want to think about it, so she moved past Tony to step into the room he had been gesturing for her to enter.  Her chest felt tight when she saw Bruce and Rhodey sitting around a table, clearly finishing up some kind of meal.  

“H-hi,” she stuttered out, watching out of the corner of her eye as Bruce rose to his feet.  But she couldn’t look away from Rhodey.  

Who was smiling at her, like he was happy to see her.  

“You’re gonna have to come to me for a hug, Felicity,” Rhodey said, holding his arms out to her.  

Her legs wobbled underneath her and Felicity could feel her lower lip trembling.  Swallowing, she did her best to smile, did her best to act like how she had wanted people to act around her when she was in her chair.  

“I came all the way from the West Coast for a hug, and I’d come even farther,” she said, walking over to him and leaning into his arms, to hug him as tightly as she could.  

Rhodey chuckled as he returned her hug.  “You’re pulling my leg--not that I can tell.”  

That made her laugh, even as she saw Bruce and her father exchange worried glances.  “No leg pulling, I promise.”  She sat down beside him, holding on to Rhodey’s hand.  She looked down at his legs, noticing the braces strapped over his pants, enclosing his legs.  “Something Dad whipped up for you?”  

He nodded, patting one of the braces with his free hand.  “Yep.  Still getting used to them.”  

“And Dad’s probably already got seventeen ideas for improvements, right?” Felicity asked, grinning a little.  

“Air conditioning, top of the list,” Tony said, sitting down on Felicity’s other side.  His hand rested heavily on her shoulder.  “You gonna say hi to your other godfather?”

“We all know that neither Bruce or Rhodey are my actual godfathers, because I don’t have any godfathers,” Felicity said, giving her father a look.  Still, she stood up to hug Bruce.  “And you wouldn’t agree to be my godfather anyway, right, Bruce?”  

Bruce looked sheepish as he nodded.  “Nope.  But sometimes, ‘godfather’ comes closest to how I feel about you.”  He looked at her, with those sharp, all-seeing eyes so full of kindness, and Felicity felt like he was looking into her soul.  She put on a bright smile and turned to Tony.

“Although maybe I should have godfathers, considering how my actual father has been acting lately.”  

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Felicity felt her incongruous smile disappear.  Because the words were entirely too cutting, too mean, too real.  Too honest.  

Tony’s face blanched, his eyes filling with pain.  There was an indrawn breath, from Rhodey or Bruce--Felicity didn’t know.  All she knew was that she had to get away from all of these men.  

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.  “I--I need the bathroom.  Be right back.”  

Without waiting for any response, Felicity turned away from them and left the room, her eyes not seeing anything as she walked as fast as she could.  Walking so fast that some would call it running.

XXX

The plan was for Bruce to be the one to explain everything to her.  Which was ironic, since he hadn’t witnessed any of what had happened.  While the Avengers had been fighting among themselves about the Accords, he had been with Thor, dealing with an issue on Asgard.

“Which we both regret, even though it was necessary,” Bruce said, fidgeting with his glasses.  “Especially since it’s pretty clear the Sokovia Accords were written about Thor and myself.”  

Felicity nodded, her hands clasped in her lap.  “I had gotten that sense when I read them.  But no one thought to ask either of you?”

“Funny thing--when you’re dealing with Ragnarok, you’re out of cell phone range,” Bruce said, putting on his glasses.  

In spite of Thor’s lessons, her knowledge of Norse mythology was still pretty basic, and part of her wanted to seek confirmation from Bruce that by Ragnarok, he was talking about the actual end of the world, as foreseen by the Vikings.  But she knew that question and the resulting discussion would just be putting off the inevitable--and Bruce would know that, too.

“So . . . I know about the showdown in Germany--Leipzig, right?” Felicity said, shifting in her chair.

Bruce nodded.  “Steve and the people on his side--Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Clint, Scott--went up against Tony and his team: Rhodey, Vision, T’Challa, this new kid who’s some kind of human spider . . . and Nat.”  

That was something Felicity was still trying to wrap her head around.  She didn’t think her dad and Nat had ever agreed on anything.  And she knew Bruce was struggling with it, too.  

“Anyway,” Bruce said, adjusting his glasses, “Nat helped Steve and Bucky get away, chasing after Zemo to Siberia because they thought he was going to wake up this secret group of Winter Soldiers.  It took some time, but Tony followed them once he figured out what Zemo was up to.  Once the three of them were all together in Siberia . . .”  

When Bruce didn’t continue, Felicity leaned forward.  “What happened?”

“You know, this part?  I think your dad needs to tell you this,” Bruce said, awkwardly getting to his feet.  “I’m gonna go get him, okay?  But you and me, we’ll talk more later--especially about how this implant of yours is working.  It’s a date, okay?  Although not like that, of course.  Be right back.”

Felicity stared at Bruce’s retreating back.  While Bruce wasn’t the smoothest guy around, he certainly never babbled like that.  He had looked incredibly nervous, which made her get very worried.  What had happened in Siberia?  Had . . . had somebody died?

Raised voices heralded the arrival of her dad, who was unhappy about Bruce going back on his agreement to tell Felicity what had happened.  But with a push that seemed perilously close to a Hulk smash, Bruce shoved Tony into the room with Felicity and closed the door.  

Her father looked at the door for a moment, then shook his head.  “I’m surprised he didn’t lock us in here, to make sure I’d tell you.”  

“Did somebody die?” Felicity blurted out.  “Is that why Bruce was so scared to tell me?”

“Pft, no,” her father said, attempting to sound casual.  Felicity wasn’t going to let him brush this off so easily and she gave him a look.  

Tony’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head.  “No, no one died,” he said, walking over and sitting down beside her.  “I just found out how my parents died, that’s all.”  

Her shock made Felicity draw in a breath.  Because this was something they had never talked about, despite how important Howard and Maria Stark had been to her father.  Of course Felicity had heard stories about her grandparents from Rhodey and Peggy and Steve.  But never from Tony.  He occasionally badmouthed his father, but he never said a word about his mother.  

“December 17, 1991.”  

She frowned, not placing the date.  Tony nodded a little and went on.  “That’s the day they died.  I never forgot the date, no matter how hard I tried.  Never enough booze to wipe that one away,” he said, rubbing at his eyes.

“Dad, I don’t understand what that has to do with Siberia,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.  

“Don’t you, though?” he asked, turning his head to look at her for the first time since he came into the room.  “It was me, Steve and Bucky, standing in some old nuclear silo where they made baby Winter Soldiers, and--and there were files.  Mission reports,” Tony said bitterly.  “Including one dated December 17, 1991.”  

A noise like a moan might have escaped her lips when the pieces fell into place, but everything around her got dim and fuzzy around the edges.  Like she was underwater and she couldn’t break the surface.  

“Bucky killed my parents.  And Steve knew--he fucking  _ knew _ , and he didn’t tell me.  Fucking coward!”   

His angry hiss rattled her out of her fugue and Felicity shook her head like a swimmer exiting the pool.  “What?” she croaked.

Tony whirled around, having risen from the sofa at some point.  “Steve knew!  He found out during all that crap with S.H.I.E.L.D.  He’s known for two years, and he didn’t tell me.  And it doesn’t matter that he admitted to being a fucking coward, taking the easy way out--he knew and he didn’t tell me!”

The grief and devastation in Tony’s voice shook Felicity to her core.  And it swamped her in a wave of emotions.  The idea that Bucky, the man who had tea parties with her and let her explore his metal arm during her brief flirtation with a medical career, was the one who killed her grandparents, who kept her from ever knowing them--and Steve, her favorite uncle, had known for years and hadn’t told them . . . 

Swallowing, Felicity stood up and walked over to Tony.  She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around him, holding on tightly.  Right now, she didn’t have the words to help him, or to explain what she was feeling and thinking.  Were there any words that could do that?

For a moment, her father resisted her touch and didn’t respond.  But then, he hugged her back, his arms strong around her, and Felicity felt herself start to crumble on the inside.  Like she wished she was a little girl, her daddy’s princess once again, and he could get her anything she wanted.  

Because if that was still true, maybe he could make her stop hurting.  Make the world be a little nicer, a little softer.  Was that too much to ask?  For something to be easy?

No.  She couldn’t keep thinking like this--because that wasn’t what life was about.  For everything good, there had to be bad.  She had to keep believing in that, because otherwise she would become some kind of misanthrope, thinking everyone was bad and only looking out for themselves.  

That wasn’t who she wanted to be.  That wasn’t how she had been raised by the people she had called family.  Whether they were gods and superheroes or co-workers and average people, Felicity knew that everyone had experienced rough patches in their lives.  And they found a way through the darkness, savoring their eventual return to the light all the more for that darkness.  

Really, she was lucky.  After all, she could walk again.  According to Bruce, the damage to Rhodey’s spine was even more traumatic than what she had experienced.  Even more than for her, his injury truly changed his life for the worse.  

Tony slowly ended the hug, stepping back and holding her at arm’s length.  He took a long look at her and shook his head.  “You’re a lot like your mother.”  

There wasn’t any negativity in his statement, Felicity could tell.  He wasn’t seeing her similarity to Pepper as a flaw.  Which gave her hope that maybe, now that the mess with the Accords was mostly over, perhaps her parents would find their way back to each other.  Not that it was true, that she was a lot like Pepper.  She tried to be yet never really felt like she pulled it off. 

“I’m also a lot like you,” Felicity said, putting on her best smile.  “You got a lab in this place?  I need to tinker.”  

He gave her a look.  “Like I’d build this place without a lab.  C’mon.”  

As she followed her father to another part of the compound, Felicity felt something in her spirit wake up from a long slumber.  she wasn’t just going to mindlessly futz about.  No, there was a plan forming in her mind.  A plan that could make a difference in the lives of the people she loved.  

A big difference.

XXX

“Curtis, are you telling me there’s no way to reproduce my bio-implant?” 

Felicity ran her hands through her hair as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the computer in front of her.  The face of Curtis Holt was slightly pixilated--she should talk to her dad about upgrading the video processors, since they clearly couldn’t handle a simple Skype call--but his frustration was as visible and obvious as her own.

“I’m not saying that.  But the timeline you’re suggesting is, frankly, impossible.  And this isn’t one of those things where I’m saying that just because it’s hard--no, Felicity, it is  _ literally  _ impossible for that chip to be manufactured in less than three months.  And that’s with taking shortcuts and risky chances that I’m not comfortable with.”

“I don’t understand--I thought this was what the Biomechanical Division was working towards?” Felicity asked.

Curtis shrugged his shoulders.  “Yes?  That’s above my pay grade.  All I know is that for the last two months, I haven’t been working on the changes and improvements to the bio-implant.  Instead, I’ve been working on better prosthetic limbs--which I’m fine with--but also--”  

When he hesitated, Felicity moved closer to the screen.  “Tell me.”  

“You’re not going to like this,” he warned.  

“Tell me!” Felicity barked, making Curtis jump.  

“Smart contact lenses!  They’ve had me working to design a new kind of device to help soldiers aim better, particularly in low-light or no-light conditions, by feeding data from a digital gun sight to the lenses,” Curtis said in a rush.

Ugh.  Felicity really hated when history repeated itself.  She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes.  “How much of your time is spent on these smart contact lenses?”

“Probably--probably about sixty percent,” Curtis said tentatively.

“Make it zero and use that time to work on the bio-implant.  I’ll talk to the department head and make sure you have all the resources you need, as well as finding out when Stark Industries got back into the weapons business,” Felicity said crisply.  She paused and softened her voice.  “Thank you, Curtis.”  

He smiled at her.  “You’re welcome.  I’ll keep you posted if I can make any changes to the proposed timeline.”  

Nodding, Felicity ended the Skype call and blew out a breath.  Hearing that it would take so long to develop the bio-implant, even with SI’s resources, was a blow.  Not to mention finding out that a division of her family’s company was working on weapons-adjacent technology and she hadn’t known about it.  How much had slipped through the cracks in the months since she had been shot and her parents were breaking up?

That was a problem she would tackle later, though--especially once her father was back to work, which hopefully would be soon.  For now . . . she would just have to go with Plan B.  

Standing up, Felicity paid attention to all the little things that went into making that happen.  The tensing of her muscles, the shifting of her weight, how her stomach pulled in to help support her back as she rose from her chair.  As her heels tapped out a rhythm against the floor tiles, she walked slowly towards the television lounge on the second floor.  It was a homey room with couches, a large TV and all the game systems and movies a group of superheroes could need.  In the week she had been here, it was the most likely spot to find anyone when you were looking for them.

Anyone like Rhodey.

Not only was her father’s best friend sitting on one of the couches, so was her father and Bruce.  Since it was after dinner--a meal she just realized she had missed--they were all relaxing, drinking beers and talking without really watching the baseball game playing on the television.  

“Hi,” she said, moving to sit in a chair diagonal from Rhodey.

“Hey, Felicity.  Are you hungry?  There’s plenty of leftover Chinese,” Bruce said, gesturing towards the white cardboard containers spread out over the coffee table.

She shook her head and smiled.  “I’m fine.”  

“You should eat, princess,” Tony said distractedly, his eyes on the game.  He groaned.  “This ump is blind.”  

“I want to talk to Rhodey,” she said, smiling at her honorary uncle.

The man in question looked at her curiously.  “You do?”

Nodding, Felicity moved forward in her chair.  “Yeah.  I have a proposition for you.  How would you like to walk again?”

Her father straightened up, his head whipping to look at her.  Bruce frowned slightly, leaning forward.  And Rhodey’s eyes went wide with confusion and surprise.  

“What?” Rhodey said slowly.  

“You all know about the chip that’s in my spine,” Felicity began, lacing her fingers together and holding on tightly.  She made her smile stay in place.  “I wanted to make a new one and offer it to you, but it’s going to take months for that to happen.  So I want to give you the one I have.  It’s a prototype, but as you can see, it’s working fine for me.”

Even before she had finished her sentence, Rhodey was shaking his head.  Felicity rushed on, needing to convince him.  “You need it more than I do, Rhodey.  I’m not a hero like you--I can’t make a difference like you can.  You’ve done so much to defeat terrorists, save civilians, keep my dad sane.  Iron Man needs War Machine.  And--and I love you, Rhodey, and I want you to have the chip so you can walk again.”  

“Absolutely not.”  

It wasn’t her father, or even Bruce, who said that.  It was Rhodey, and his rejection of her offer made Felicity lean back in her chair, pressing her lips together.  Because why?

Rhodey carefully pushed himself up, his braces whirring and clicking.  “Felicity, it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me, but I can’t take your chip.  It wouldn’t be right.  I can get used to the braces, or I’ll wait to get one of the chips once SI starts manufacturing them.”

“But--Rhodey--” she said, only for him to turn and brace himself on his walker.  He walked slowly out of the room, Felicity staring after him.  

Then she looked at her dad, unable to hide her shock.  “I can’t believe he wouldn’t take it.”  

She was speaking the truth--Felicity really couldn’t believe it.  Because wasn’t he struggling with who he was now that he couldn’t walk?  Now that his career had been taken away from him, both as War Machine and in the Air Force, he must be scared.  As a military man, Rhodey would downplay his fears, but Felicity, more than anyone else, knew that he must be scared.  More scared than even she had been.  More scared than she was when she first realized she could give Rhodey her chip.  

But this was the right thing to do.  It was for the greater good!  Plus, it was her chance to be a hero.  To do something to start healing the wounds caused by the Sokovia Accords, to make up for everything that had happened to her family.  To the people she loved so, so much.

“Really?” Tony asked, heavy on the sarcasm.  

“Yes, really!” Felicity said, frowning at him.  “Of course Rhodey wants to walk again--and I’m offering him exactly what he needs, and he’s turning me down.”  

Bruce got up, moving closer to her.  “Felicity, you know how much Rhodey loves you.  You had to expect him to react like he did--to turn you down.”  

“No--no,” she replied, shaking her head.  Her breathing was starting to become ragged and her chest was tight.  She rubbed at her breastbone.  “I don’t understand.”  

Dimly, she heard Bruce say her name.  But Felicity was too focused on the panic that was beginning to drown her.  This was like that day in the elevator but a hundred times worse.  

“This--this was--my chance,” she stuttered, trying to speak through the lump in her throat.  

“Your chance for what, Felicity?” Bruce asked gently.  

She stared at him, wondering why he was even asking.  Wasn’t it clear she had a stain on her soul?  Maybe she had hidden it better than she thought--but she couldn’t hide it from someone like Bruce.

“Havenrock.  Making up--for Havenrock,” she said, blinking as her vision seemed to grow dark around the corners.  The words seemed to pour out of her, though, coming so fast that she didn’t even know if they made sense.  “Blowing up that town.  Failing.  Destroying everything because I was too worried about Dad and Steve, too sad about Mom and Dad, too distracted by Oliver . . .”

Suddenly, Bruce was shoved out of the way by her father.  “Breathe, Felicity--breathe.”  

All she could manage was a shaky breath.  “I--I have to make up--Rhodey has to take it--Daddy, he has to take it.”  

Tony lifted his hand, gently stroking her hair.  “Princess, he would never take that implant from you.”

“He  _ has  _ to,” Felicity insisted, jerking away from her father’s soothing touch.  “He has to--he has to!”  

“Felicity, why does he has to?”  

It was all she could do not to roll her eyes at her father’s obtuseness.  “Because I don’t deserve it!” she croaked.  “I--I’m not like Mom, all strong and confident and calm.  I’m not a hero like you or Rhodey.  I don’t need it--I don’t deserve the implant!”

“That’s not true,” Bruce said, hovering over her father’s shoulder.  “Felicity, I know you’re feeling guilty, but--”

She shook her head and interrupted Bruce, unable to listen to his attempts at reassurance.  “It’s not feeling guilty--I am guilty.  I’ve killed more people than you have, Bruce,” Felicity snapped.  “I  _ nuked  _ an entire town.”  

“We’ve all made mistakes--” Bruce tried again, but this time Tony cut him off.  

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have the implant, Felicity,” he said earnestly, leaning in towards her.

“It does!” she cried out, shoving at Tony’s chest.  Something about pushing him, about having a physical outlet for all these emotions--it felt good.  So she did it again.  “I don’t deserve it!” she yelled as she pounded her fists on her father’s chest.  

Each time a fist made impact, she screamed.  

“I don’t deserve it!”

“I’m a killer!”

“I’m not good!”  

“I’m not a hero!”

“I’m not--I’m not--I’m not--” she stuttered, her strength failing her, her fists weakly pushing at her father.  Who hadn’t moved, who hadn’t said anything.  He was just . . . looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion, his lips pressed together.  

And Felicity burst into tears.  They came so hard and fast that she couldn’t see, couldn’t tell what was going on around her.  Not that she cared right now.  Because she didn’t want to know.

She didn’t want to know anything.

End, Chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, I wrote a future ficlet in this same universe, as a birthday gift to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline--the best beta around. If you need a little hope that everything’s going to work out for Felicity, and are craving a little Oliver POV, check out [Advice and Gifts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8555839/chapters/22860732)!

 

Her eyes snapped open when she heard a loud rustling.  Pushing herself up slowly, Felicity looked around, wondering when and how she had ended up in the room she had been using at the Avengers compound.  Her eyes felt gritty and her whole body ached, like it did back at MIT when she spent days huddled over her computer, coding and creating.  

Why did she feel like this, though?  The last thing she remembered was . . . crying.  

Bawling her eyes out, actually.  Breaking down, unable to handle the pressure any longer.  Because she was weak and incompetent, a failure and a killer.  

Her mental insults didn’t provoke any kind of reaction from her.  No, Felicity felt too numb and too wrung-out to care.  

The rustling came again before a brisk knock.  “Felicity?  You decent?”

“Dad?” she called out, feeling confused by the cheer in his voice.  “Um . . . yes?”

Wait,  _ was  _ she decent?  She looked down and saw she was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.  Which might partly explained how she had gotten back here last night: with the way she had been crying, it wouldn’t be surprising if she had cried herself to sleep.  And then her dad had carried her here, his bad back be damned.

When her father stepped into her room, she searched his face and body for any signs of lingering discomfort, but there was nothing there.  In fact, he was . . . carrying a covered tray?

“Good morning, princess,” Tony said, setting the tray down on top of the dresser, brushing aside the stack of journals she had left there.  He lifted the cover, revealing coffee, eggs, bacon and fruit.  Turning to meet her confused eyes, he smiled.

“Thought you could use breakfast in bed.  Especially since we have a busy day ahead of us.”  Tony paused, then shook his head.  “How are you feeling?”  

“Umm . . .” Felicity said, opening her mouth and then closing it.  She wasn’t really sure how to answer her father’s question.  How did she feel?  What was her emotional state?  She thought she should feel curious about what had happened last night, worried about how her father and Bruce felt about her breakdown, even fearful about what was next.  Yet . . . she wasn’t.  She just felt numb.  

Without anything better to say, she shrugged one shoulder and said, “Okay, I guess.  I . . . I must have fallen asleep last night.  Did you carry me in here?”

“Yup,” Tony said, turning to the tray and rattling the dishes.  “Well, me and Bruce.  I’m not as young as I used to be and besides, the suit always does the heavy lifting.” 

He turned around, holding a plate filled with food and a cup of coffee.  “Here you go, princess.  Eat up.”  

Felicity took the food, blinking a little at the amount piled onto the plate.  “I can’t eat this all.”  

“Now, I might have needed help getting you in here, but Bruce said you were too thin.  And you’re gonna need energy for today, so eat up.  At least see how it tastes and go from there.”  

Her father could be so stubborn.  And he was right: she did need to eat.  She couldn’t remember when she had eaten yesterday, or what.  After a few sips of coffee, Felicity set aside the mug and took the silverware Tony handed her before starting to eat.  And within a few moments, she realized the food tasted good.  Lately, nothing had tasted like anything other than sawdust or mush in her mouth.  

Tony settled down in the beat-up wing chair by the foot of her bed with his own plate, stuffing eggs and bacon into his mouth as he tapped away at his phone.  In a way, this was just so normal.  Like how it had been when she was growing up, or when she came home from MIT during breaks.  Felicity felt a wave of nostalgia for those easy, halcyon days.  When everything made sense.  Not like now.  

“Eat, princess.  Stop moving the food around.”  

“I am eating,” she said, hearing the pout in her voice.  Frowning, she dramatically lifted a heaping forkful of eggs and put them in her mouth, pressing her lips together to keep the half-chewed food from spilling out.

He grinned at her.  “Okay, there?”  

“Fine,” she said, once she got most of the eggs down.  She swallowed again and picked up her coffee, sipping it slowly.  “Why are you so concerned about my eating habits all of a sudden?”

Glancing at her, he replied, “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘all of a sudden’.  I always worry about you.  Part of being a parent.  That’s what today is about.”  

“You keep talking about today,” Felicity said, picking up a piece of bacon and nibbling on it, solely to satisfy her dad.  “What’s happening today?”

He purposely kept poking at his phone, making her wait before he answered her.  “Starting a new project.  A big one.  We’re really gonna dive into this one, princess.”  

A project.  Clearly something meaty and all-encompassing, the kind of thing they would start working on together and wouldn’t stop until Pepper made them or someone fell asleep on a keyboard.  Like when they had worked on his Iron Man suit using her first processor, or when she was in high school developing her computer experiments for the Intel Science and Engineering Fair.   Some of her happiest memories involved working for hours in a lab, tinkering away while her dad doing the same.  

But right now . . . for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to do that.  Her whole life, work had been the cure for whatever was bothering her--or Tony.  Whatever the problem, distract yourself with a project, get lost in a car or a computer and ignore the people or issues that sent you running into the arms of science. 

It was what she had been doing for months.  Even before the breakup with Oliver, she had been using SI, the bio-implant, and dozens of other projects to keep herself from thinking about what was wrong.  From dealing with the things that had hurt her. 

She had been overclocking herself for months, and last night she had melted down.  Catastrophically.  So the idea of doing the same thing she had been doing, by helping her father with something distracting and thinking it would help, wasn't just the definition of insanity.  It wasn't what she wanted to do. 

Not that Felicity really knew what she wanted to do, but . . . spending hours upon hours in the lab wasn’t it. 

“I don't know, Dad . . .” she said slowly, shifting around in the bed.  “I don't know if a distraction is what I need right now.”

“First off, engineering is never a distraction,” Tony said, pointing at her with his fork.  “But you're right, that's not what you need.  Me, neither.  So that's what we're going to work on today.  That's the project.  Not a new suit or an advanced microprocessor.  We're the project.”

Felicity stared at her dad, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.  And if she had heard him, she certainly didn’t understand.  “What?”

He set aside his plate and his phone and leaned towards her, his eyes dark yet warm.  For one of the few times she could remember, he looked nervous.  Uncertain.  Maybe scared and definitely vulnerable. 

“The things you said about yourself last night . . . they're the kind of things that have been going through my head for years,” Tony said slowly.  “I used to drink to drown those voices out, but it didn't do anything to actually fix the problem.  And it made new problems--that's why I stopped drinking like I used to, because I was gonna lose Pepper.”  He paused at the mention of her mother’s name and swallowed.  “And I had figured out how to handle all those thoughts, but the thing is, PTSD isn't like incipient alcoholism.  For one thing, you have a hell of a lot less fun.”

His joke gave Felicity a chance to breath. Seeing her father open up like this was so new, so revealing, Felicity didn’t want to break the spell, not even by breathing.

Managing a weak smile, she nodded a little.  “So--um, you have PTSD?”

“It didn't take a boatload of degrees to figure that out--which I do have, just not in psychology,” Tony said.  “But . . . yeah.  PTSD.  Post-traumatic stress disorder.  Kinda comes with what I do, being Iron Man.  And with what you've gone through in the last year, Felicity?  You've probably been suffering the same way I have, and--and I wasn't able to help you.  Because my life was blowing up at the same time.”  

Tossing back the covers, Felicity moved to the foot of the bed, leaning out towards her father.  “Dad, I don’t want you to feel guilty about me--”

“It’s not like that--well, it’s a little bit like that,” Tony said, quickly correcting himself.  “But it’s more than that.  ‘Cause I helped everything explode, because I’ve let all this stuff fester for years.  I don’t want that for you, princess.  I don’t want you to be like me, without a partner or friends, knowing you’ve gone too far but unable to stop yourself when you’re doing it.”

Felicity squeezed his hand, not even knowing who had reached out to touch the other.  “I wish I could have helped more, Dad.”  

“You can help me by going to therapy with me today,” Tony said.  “Hearing you say the same things I’ve been thinking for years . . . ever since you got here, I could tell you needed to talk to someone--a professional.  But if you do, so do I.  So, therapy.  Oh, and one other thing.”  

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her with a firm, no-nonsense expression.  “You need to know you've done more to help me, in ways you have no idea about, so you don't have to feel guilty for trying to handle your own stuff first.  Okay?”

Growing up, Felicity had always felt a connection with her father.  She had been called a daddy's girl or Tony Stark’s princess more times than she could count.  And she had never complained or protested, because it was the truth.  Yet looking at her father now, heading his words and feeling his love . . . Felicity realized that her relationship with her dad was about to change.  For the better, she thought.  

“Okay,” she said, her voice breaking a little.  She squeezed Tony's hand tightly to force back her tears.  “Y--you’re right.  We both need to deal with this stuff.  And--and I'm ready to try.  I don't wanna keep feeling like this.  And I don't want you to, either.”

Tony abandoned the grip on her hand and reached out to hug her.  “That's my girl,” he said softly, rubbing her back just like he had when she was small. 

She sniffed and turned her face into his shoulder, inhaling that engine grease smell she had always identified him by.  What was to come was going to be hard work, Felicity knew.  It would be uncomfortable and disconcerting and scary.  And she was so scared.  But she was tired of feeling like this: numb, disconnected, alone.  Lost in the dark.  

The only thing that helped her with that scared, shaky feeling was knowing she wasn't doing this on her own.  Not just because her father would be here, but Bruce and Rhodey, too.  And there were all her other friends, offering her support even without knowing what she was doing: Caitlin and Ronnie, Laurel and Tommy, Digg and Lyla, Kitty and Rogue and Natasha.  She had so many people who cared about her.  People she could lean on, instead of pretending that just because she wasn't a hero like them, her problems didn't matter.

And even though she knew they were over, she knew that Oliver would always,  _ always _ , have her back. 

XXX

After a shower and a change of clothes, Felicity slowly descended the stairs to the first level, heading towards the room her father had told her to meet him in for therapy.  Her numbness and lack of feeling was beginning to wear off--to be replaced by plenty of nervous energy.  She couldn’t seem to stop adjusting her glasses, smoothing a hand over her ponytail, or twisting her fingers in the hem of her sweater.  

When she entered the room through the open door, she drew up short at whom she saw talking with Bruce.  

Turning towards her father, she whispered, “Doc Samson?  Really?  Doesn’t he think Bruce can be cured through psychology?”  

“Would you have preferred Professor X?  Good ol’ Leonard can’t read your mind at least,” Tony replied.  

Felicity sighed, shifting from one foot to the other.  Her father was right--she definitely wouldn’t want to go through therapy with Charles Xavier, the most powerful telepath on Earth.  And yes, she knew Dr. Leonard Skivorski, AKA Doc Samson, was an incredibly talented psychiatrist and therapist, to the extent that he had been able to counsel both Bruce and ‘the other guy’.  But still . . . would Dr. Skivorski really understand her and her resistance towards heroics when he had exposed himself to gamma radiation in the hopes of becoming like the Hulk?  That didn’t seem to speak to his overall intelligence or common sense, even if it had given him what he wanted: super-strength.

Also green hair, which Felicity doubted he had wanted.  

“Look, whatever has happened in the past, Bruce trusts him now, and that’s good enough for me,” her father said, rubbing her arm.  “Plus, he’s been helping Rhodey.  Counseling him and helping him work through stuff.”

Part of her wanted to argue with her father, but if she did, he would probably accuse her of trying to wiggle her way out of this--letting her fear get in the way.  And Felicity couldn’t deny he would be right.  She was scared.  Scared, nervous, worried and even a little panicky: she was having to really work on keeping her breathing even and regular.  

She didn’t want to have a panic attack.  She didn’t want to continue carrying all her problems on her own.  She wanted more balance in her life.  She wanted to be happy.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity closed her eyes.  She wanted to be happy, she repeated silently.  The way she had been living--burying herself in work, not talking about the things that stressed her out or made her sad, losing touch with all her friends and family--hadn’t done anything to make her happy.  Until she changed something, nothing would change.  

“C’mon, Felicity,” her father said softly, taking her elbow and drawing her further into the room.  He rested his hand on her back as they approached Bruce and Doc Samson.  “All right, all right, enough chit chat.  Time to get to work shrinking some heads, Doc!” Tony said with a forced jocularity.  

Bruce huffed out a breath and took off his glasses, rubbing his forehead.  “Jeez, Tony.”  

“What?  No use pussy-footing around,” Tony said.  “We all know why he’s here.”  

“That’s certainly true, but do you have to be all--all . . .” Bruce said, his voice trailing off as he apparently tried to come up with the right adjective.  

“All Tony?” Felicity asked, smiling nervously.  

The snort that escaped Bruce was loud and emphatic and Tony looked at his best friend with a sour, insulted expression on his face.  Which made Felicity start to laugh.  

Not just laugh--cackle, like she hadn’t done in so long.  She bent at the waist, her hands on her thighs, as she whooped and snorted.  Her stomach hurt, like her laughing muscles had gotten flabby and out of shape.  Which was the scariest thought of all: that she had stopped finding reasons to laugh over the last six months.  Without laughter, was she really living?  

No, she wasn’t.  And that made what she was about to do a little bit less scary.  She wanted to live, and to do that, she had to get to the bottom of her problems.  

“Easy there, Felicity,” Tony said, a mix of disgruntlement and concern in his voice.  “Only bad comedians laugh the hardest at their own jokes.”  

“No--no, I’m laughing almost as hard,” Bruce panted.  

Straightening up a bit, Felicity wiped her eyes as she grinned at Bruce.  “You’re my favorite, Bruce.  Oh, I needed that.”  

“It sounds like it,” Doc Samson said, finally speaking after remaining quiet and observing them.  “Hi, Felicity.  It’s nice to meet you.”  

“Thank you, Doctor Skivorski,” Felicity said, holding her hand out to him.  

Taking her hand with a smile, he gave it a hearty shake and said, “You can just call me Doc or Samson.  Let’s have a seat and we’ll get started.”  He released her hand before turning to Bruce and nodded.  “We’ll catch up more later, Bruce.”  

Bruce nodded back and gave Felicity a smile.  “You’re in good hands.  See you later.”  

And with that, Bruce withdrew from the room, leaving Felicity and her father with the green-haired doctor.

“I’ll be meeting with both of you individually, but I thought we could begin with a joint session.  I’m a big believer in group therapy, and we have some natural groups here in the compound,” Doc said as he settled onto one of the loveseats in the room.  

“Such as?” Tony asked, sprawling on another loveseat.  

Felicity eased into one of the oversized chairs, clasping her hands together in her lap.  “You and me, Dad--we could get family counseling.”  

“Right,” Samson said, picking up a notebook and uncapping a pen.  “Tony, then there’s you and Bruce and James, sharing the work of being heroes.  And Felicity, you and James both have experience with spinal injuries.”  He paused, gazing at her.  “It must weigh on you, the possibility of someday being unable to walk again.”  

Her throat tightened at the way Doc Samson put it.  At the very fact he was speaking aloud that fear.  Most of the people in her life wouldn’t talk about such a possibility--not so bluntly.  They wouldn’t want to upset her.  Yet it was something Felicity was going to live with for the rest of her life.  It hovered in the back of her mind, sometimes receding into the background, yes.  Yet when she then recalled the potential for her implant to fail, the fear and worry were momentarily all-encompassing.

Licking her lips, she nodded slowly.  “Yes.”  

“We’ll discuss this more in our private sessions, Felicity,” Doc Samson said with a gentle smile.  “Right now, I’d like you both to talk about your relationship with each other.”  

Oh.  Felicity looked at the doctor curiously, then turned to look at Tony.  “I think it’s good.”  

“You think?  I know it’s good.  Felicity and I, we’ve always seen eye to eye on things,” Tony said, leaning back against the loveseat.  

“Like what?” Doc asked, his gaze moving back and forth between the two of them.  

Tony shrugged.  “All kinds of things.  Engineering, computers, how biomechanics is useless . . .”  

“We’ve always worked well together,” Felicity said, looking at Samson.  “We’re a father and daughter who can spend hours together without saying anything more than ‘hand me that wrench’.  We agree on a lot of things.”  

“So your work is also how you relate to each other,” Samson said.  “Have you ever had a situation where you disagreed about some engineering question?  How did you resolve the disagreement?”  

“It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does, we can usually get past it all right,” Felicity said.  “I know where he’s coming from and he knows where I’m coming from.”  

Her father nodded in agreement.  Felicity slowly breathed out, feeling both relaxed and nervous.  These questions seemed like softballs so far.  And really, what was there to talk about when it came to her relationship with her father?  It was good.  Rock-solid, even.  Yes, things had been tense lately, but they were still good.

“Hmmm,” Samson murmured.  “Felicity, how do you feel about the breakup of your parents’ marriage?  Has that impacted your interactions with either Tony or Pepper?”

And just like that, Felicity knew that her nerves hadn’t been misplaced.  She looked at her father and swallowed as she wondered just how honest she should be.  Her fingers twisted around themselves and she couldn’t look away from her hands.  

Suddenly, she didn’t want to talk anymore.  But she knew she had to.  Even if it hurt, she had to stop hiding.  So she closed her eyes and said, “It has changed things.  And not just with my mom, whom I haven’t talked to in weeks.”

XXX

“Good afternoon, Felicity.  How are you doing today?”

“Ugh,” Felicity said, stepping into the study/therapy room and dropping down into the chair she had adopted as her own.  “I want to pound heads in.”  

Doc Samson chuckled.  “Well, that’s the first time in three weeks you’ve actually come right out and said something’s bothering you.  That’s good.”  

Felicity frowned and ran her hands over her hair.  “I’ve said stuff is bothering me before.  I feel like all I do is complain in our sessions.  And in my sessions with Dad, and with Rhodey.”  

“Usually, you try to act like everything’s fine, nothing is wrong, and you’re perfectly at peace,” Samson said, uncapping his pen and scratching down a note in his ever-present pad.  “Normally, I have to draw what you’re thinking out of you.  But not today.  Tell me what’s wrong.”  

She just bet he was making a note about that, so they could come back to it later.  Which just added to her irritation.  Felicity fidgeted in her chair, then stood up and started to pace as she tried to get her thoughts and feelings in enough order so she could explain them to the doctor.  “I’ve been working with my dad and Bruce about mass-producing the implant that’s in my spine.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said softly.  “Along with your employee at Stark Industries in Starling City, yes?  Curtis, was it?”

“Yeah, Curtis,” she said.  “And it’s going really slowly, which is the worst, because apparently it’s going to take millions and millions of dollars to actually develop the implant into something that could be readily available, and the SI Board is majorly dragging their feet about the costs.  It might be a year before we start manufacturing the implant.  So of course they’re pushing that we work on developing weapons to help offset the cost, but that is  _ not  _ a road I want the company to go down, and my father--Dad thinks we should ‘consider the idea’!” she snapped, using air quotes in order to get some of her anger out and picking up the speed of her pacing. 

“After everything he’s said about realizing what his weapons were doing, how it inspired him to make SI into something different, how it made him become Iron Man, he wants to ‘consider the idea’,” Felicity said.  “And that’s not even the worst part.”  

She frowned and bit her lip, not meaning to jump to the other piece of news she had learned today.  But it had just slipped out.  

With a sigh, she turned to look at Doc Samson.  By now, she knew that he wouldn’t ask her what she meant by ‘the worst part’.  He wouldn’t direct the conversation, wouldn’t ask her for more unless he was truly confused by her words.  It was up to her.  

But if she tried to avoid what she had said, Samson would certainly come back to it at some point.  This whole process was about being honest with herself.  About not hiding.  And he wouldn’t let her ignore anything, not even for the sake of prioritizing.  “Because life doesn’t stop and take a number when it’s going to throw something at you, Felicity,” he had explained to her.  “You have to learn to juggle several different issues at once, in a healthy manner as opposed to how you’ve been managing so far.”  

“I didn’t mean to say that.  Not yet,” Felicity said, dropping down into her chair.  “But . . . it’s not just SI that’s bothering me.”

“What else is it?” he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath.  “Oliver.”    

Doc Samson didn’t say anything, just looked at her, waiting for her to speak.  Felicity plucked her glasses off, dropped them into her lap, and rubbed at her eyes.  “He’s . . . he’s putting together a new team.” 

“Does that unsettle you?”

_ You bet your ass _ was her silent thought.  Because he couldn’t see her face, though, she had another moment before she had to respond.  A moment to allow her to school her features.  “Yes, it does.” 

Putting her glasses back on, Felicity leaned back in her chair.  It was all she could do not to start wiggling around, or going back to pacing, or trying to change the subject.  Because it was like Oliver was some vast, uncharted sea on her mental map, one marked off with boundaries that said “Danger, there be dragons here!”  

In her sessions up to this point, their conversations had mostly been about working through her feelings about her parents’ divorce and her former paralysis.  She hadn’t really talked about Oliver, let alone him being the Green Arrow and what she had done to help him, beyond telling the doctor that her engagement to Oliver had been broken earlier this year.  

“When you say Oliver is putting together a new team, what does that mean?” Doc Samson asked.

For a moment, she flashed back to all the nights she had spent in the lair, providing computer support and coordinating communications.  Hearing Oliver’s gruff voice through her computer speakers, Digg’s softer and warmer tones, and the playful banter between Thea and Roy.  The five of them were a good team, able to read each other’s thoughts just through their voices.  It was a rapport that had been built over three years, and even though she hadn’t ever been as involved as she had wanted to be, she had felt like she was part of something.  Something that was making a difference to improve Star City.

But that team was no more, with John protecting Lyla in the final days of her pregnancy while Roy and Thea were traveling together.  Oliver had only had her . . . and she hadn’t been doing anything to help since Havenrock.  

“Oliver is the Green Arrow,” Felicity said, probably unnecessarily.  Because she had already told Doc Samson that, and he had probably done his own research on her.  

He nodded, waiting for her to go on.  She picked at a hangnail, silently wondering when was the last time she had gotten a manicure.  Her mother always had perfectly-done nails.  But Felicity could never seem to make a manicure last.  

“I . . . stopped working with him, and everyone else on the team had to leave, so Oliver has been by himself.  But now . . . he recruited my employee Curtis to help run the computers, and he has a few new recruits out in the field with him,” Felicity continued slowly.    

“This is a big change, yes?”

“It is.  He’s had the same team for nearly two years, ever since Speedy joined,” Felicity replied.  “And that was a big deal, Oliver’s sister joining up.  So to find out Oliver has a brand-new team, just like that . . . Not that it's a bad thing.  Oliver can't do everything on his own.  It's good that he's trusting other people.”

Doc Samson twirled his pen around his fingers, something he did when he was mulling over his thoughts.  Or perhaps that was what Felicity told herself it was, when really it was just another way to wait her out.  To make the silence uncomfortable enough that she would say something--anything--in order to fill the empty, quiet space.  Usually, that was when she would reveal something she hadn't even realized she was thinking or feeling. 

Right now, she didn't know how she felt about the new team.  She didn't know what to think about Oliver finding replacements for his teammates.  It didn't change that it was a good thing for Oliver to not be alone--she meant that.  But the idea of Curtis using the computers in the lair, the thought of some stranger being Oliver’s backup . . . it bothered her. 

“Do you think your uncertain emotions about this change stems from your breakup?” the doctor finally asked.  

Felicity shrugged and Samson pursed his lips.  “Let me put this a different way.  You've talked about wanting Colonel Rhodes to receive the same kind of implant as you, partly so he can be your father's backup when he's Iron Man.  Would you feel so strongly about that if your parents’ marriage wasn't in disarray right now?”

“Disarray--that's one way to put it, Doc,” Felicity said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. 

The doctor continued as if she hadn’t spoken, since he didn’t respond to sarcasm.  “And perhaps in both cases--with your parents and with yourself and Oliver--the worries about safety and having backup allows you to avoid analyzing why each relationship has broken down.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”  She glared at her doctor, annoyed that he presented the same bland facade to her.  “They’re two totally different things.  My parents didn’t break up because he’s Iron Man, just like Oliver and I didn’t break up because he’s the Green Arrow.  Whatever happened to my parents isn’t what happened to me and Oliver, and you can’t compare the one to the other.”  

“Why not?”  

“Because--because--” Felicity spluttered, the frustration rising.  She finally grasped at a straw.  “I don’t even know why my parents broke up.”  

Samson flipped slowly through the pages of his notebook.  “You still haven’t spoken with your mother, yes?”  

She shifted in her chair and shook her head.  “No, I haven’t.  But there are reasons why I haven’t.”  

“Here’s a way to move past those reasons.  I have some homework for you since it’s Friday,” Doc Samson said.  “I want you, this weekend, to call your mother.  Ask her to tell you something about her feelings towards your father, why she thinks their marriage is on the rocks at the moment.  And I’d like you to consider her reasons alongside your reasons for breaking your engagement to Oliver, and be ready to talk about what you’ve learned on Monday.”  

“But--” Felicity said, only to stop when the doctor made eye contact with her.  

“But what, Felicity?” he asked, his voice gentle.  “But, you don’t want to do that?  I know you don’t.  But I think it’s time for you to talk to your mother.”  

He made it sound like it was so easy.  Like her mother had simply been out of cell coverage and that was why Felicity hadn’t talked to Pepper.   

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  Maybe because she had a reason--’my therapist told me I had to talk to you’--would make the call less awkward.  Maybe it would help to finally talk to her mother and hear her side of things.  Maybe she would feel better telling her mother about her problems.  

Yet just the thought of picking up her phone and hitting the contact for Pepper made her want to break out in hives.  

XXX

Her palm felt sweaty against the slick plastic of her phone.  She couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the overstuffed chair she was sitting in, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in her room.    Felicity bit her lip as she waiting, bracing herself to leave a message, when suddenly, her mother’s voice was coming through the earpiece.

“Hello?  Felicity?  Is that you?”  

Her mother sounded breathless.  Like she had run to get the phone.  Perhaps hurrying to pick up the call when she saw it was Felicity?

“H-hi, Mom,” she stuttered slightly.  “Um . . . long time, no talk.”

“Felicity,” her mother repeated, the relief more than just audible--it was practically visible.  “Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice.  I’ve missed you.”  

“I . . . I’ve missed you, too,” Felicity said, realizing just how much she meant it.  It had been months since she had talked to her mother . . . how had she let that happen?  Perhaps because if Pepper knew how lost in the darkness Felicity was, her mother would have done something about it.  

There was a muffled voice on the other end of the phone, then Pepper said firmly, a distinct edge in her tone, “Cancel everything for the rest of the day.  I don’t care, just reschedule it all.”  Then her mother said, “Sorry about that.”  

“No, no--I should have asked if this was an okay time--”

“You come first, Felicity,” Pepper interrupted.  “Especially now.”  

Felicity pressed her lips together, holding back the little sob that was trying to fight its way out.  “Y-yeah?”

“Yes,” her mother said.  “I . . . I know you haven’t really needed a mom for a long time--you’re an adult, you’re smart and capable and strong.  But I haven’t been there for you when you needed me, and--and I’m so sorry, Felicity.  I made some bad choices and I want to make better ones now.  Starting with talking with you, for as long as you want.  As long as you need.”

“Mom . . .”  It was all she could do to not start crying.  Reaching up, she slid her fingers under her glasses and wiped clumsily at her eyes.  “I--I wasn’t there for you, either--I’m sorry--”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Felicity.  I could tell that things were going to get bad when I last saw you--even though I hoped, so much, that it was just my own problems coloring my viewpoint.  And then when I found out that I was right, I was . . .”  

Pepper’s voice trailed off, and for a long moment, they both sat in silence, connected only by the cell phones they each held in their hands.  Felicity listened to her mother’s soft, broken breathing and swallowed.  “Mom?”

“I’m here,” she said.  “I’m here.  Sorry.  I’m still working through things.”  

“Like . . . in therapy?” 

Her mother hummed softly, then said, “Yes.  I’ve been seeing a therapist.”  

“Me, too,” Felicity admitted quietly.  “That--that’s why I called you.  He said it was time for me to talk to you.”  

“You’re stronger than I am--she’s been telling me to call you since I started therapy six weeks ago.”  

Felicity rubbed the fingers of her free hand against the arm of her chair.  “It’s been three weeks for me.  It’s been something he’s referred to, although today was the first time he said flat-out I should talk to you.  It’s homework, actually.”

A soft laugh came through the phone.  Gentle, warm, reassuring.  “You always did love homework.”  

She smiled at her mother’s on-the-nose assessment.  “I did.  Dad never understood that.  Remember what he said?  ‘You know the material, why do you hafta prove it like you’re some normal kid?’”

As soon as she was done talking, Felicity bit her lip.  What if her mom got upset by talking about Tony?  What if it wasn’t good for Pepper right now?

“I remember.  I used to think it was one of the few things you got from me, even though I didn’t understand why you liked homework since you didn’t need the practice.  I had to work in order to learn things--you always seemed to know the answer immediately.  Just like Tony.”

Pepper’s voice hadn’t changed.  It was still warm and soft.  But Felicity knew she heard sadness, too.  Regret.  Pain.  

It made something inside Felicity twist, thinking about her mother in pain.  Even if she still didn’t know what had happened between her parents, even if she still had some anger at both of them for not trusting each other, she didn’t want either of them to be hurting.  

“Mom?  Um, part of the reason my therapist wanted me to talk to you was to find out just what happened.  With you and Dad, I mean.  Since--since I broke up with Oliver, and, well--”  

She couldn’t say any more, because she needed to breathe, because you couldn’t talk, breathe and silently cry all at the same time.  

“Felicity?  Honey, honey, it’s okay.”

Maybe her tears weren’t so silent.

“I heard about you and Oliver breaking up, and I was ready to come to Star City to see you, but--but I didn’t want to make things worse for you.  Or maybe I was just too scared to face you.  It--it would be like facing your father,” Pepper said, her own voice sounding thick with tears.  “I’m sorry.”  

“Mom, you don’t have to keep saying sorry,” Felicity said through her tears.  “I--I only need you to be honest with me.”  

“I just--I want to fix this,” her mother said, and Felicity was struck by how she could have said the same words.  Because Felicity wanted to fix this, too.  She didn’t want to go months without talking to her mother, or feeling like she couldn’t be honest with either of her parents, or having these unexpected reactions from thinking about Oliver.  

She wanted to fix this.  

“Me, too, Mom,” Felicity said, wiping at her face and taking a deep breath.  “How about you tell me what happened with you and Dad, and then--then I’ll tell you about Oliver and me.”  

Pepper inhaled deeply.  Felicity could almost picture how her mother was putting herself back together, regaining her control.  Normally, Pepper would sound brisk and matter-of-fact after any sort of emotional display.  So Felicity was surprised when Pepper said, in a soft, shy voice, “All right, Felicity.  I--I guess it all began about a year ago . . .”

Leaning back in her chair, Felicity listened hard to her mother, watching the sun slowly set and the sky became shades of pink and orange outside the window.  And as those colors deepened into blue and black, she told her mother about her breakup with Oliver.  

And even though the sun had just set, it felt like the start of a new day.

End, Chapter 7

  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been chugging along at this story and since I have enough of a cushion, I'll be posting two chapters a week until the story is done! I hope y'all are excited to see Felicity beginning the upward part of her trajectory, especially now that the story is moving faster. The next chapter will be up on Thursday. 
> 
> There's also a moment in this chapter that was inspired by something Robert Downey, Jr. actually did, because it was just too sweet for me not to go with it when I had the idea. So enjoy!

 

Her hair still wet from her post-swim shower, Felicity stepped into the kitchen and headed straight towards the coffee pot.  She had discovered in the last two months that she preferred swimming to running or the elliptical or other forms of exercise.  She liked starting her day with a half-hour of laps, the time in the water giving her a period of quiet and flow.  Yet working out first thing in the morning hadn’t eliminated her need for coffee.  

Turning around with a full mug, she startled slightly when she saw her father sitting at the island in front of her.  “Oh!” Felicity yelped, trying not to spill any of her coffee as she jumped.  

He smirked and raised an eyebrow at her.  “Morning.”

“Don’t scare me like that,” she said, no heat in her voice as she sat down beside him.  She sipped her coffee slowly, feeling her brain finally wake up.  

Her father was tapping away on his phone as she drank and it was just like so many mornings since she had arrived at the Avengers compound.  Felicity reached over and snagged the copy of the  _ New York Times _ that Bruce received every day--he was a bit of a Luddite, to her father’s dismay, and preferred the actual newspaper--and skimmed the headlines.  

She paused when she saw a small article announcing that Star City, California had become a sanctuary city.  There was a quote from Oliver and it was almost like she could picture him when he gave the quote--the tone of his voice, the pleased smile on his face, the confident bearing of his body.  

“Anything interesting in the news today?” Tony asked in a voice that was trying way too hard to be casual.

Quickly flipping the page of the newspaper, she let out a little noncommittal noise.  “Oh, you know, nothing much.”  

Tony snorted.  “Friday, throw up that press conference.”

“You got it, boss,” the virtual assistant answered before the projector on her father’s phone activated.  

The press conference was in the familiar Star City briefing room.  At the microphone was Deputy Mayor Lance, introducing the mayor, and each second felt like a lifetime.  

Felicity felt a little breathless when she finally saw Oliver.  For one thing, her mental image of him completely matched reality: he did look pleased and confident as he announced Star City’s new program to protect immigrants.  He smiled and joked around with the reporters, but quickly became serious as he spoke from the heart about why Star City would now offer sanctuary to any immigrants without legal status.  More than that, though . . . Oliver looked good.  Happy.  Not like the still-recovering mess that she was.  

“Seems like the people of Star City like their mayor,” her father said, leaning back as much as he could on his stool.  

“They’ve always supported Oliver, ever since he revealed he was the Green Arrow,” Felicity said, not taking her eyes off Oliver’s flickering image.  “Becoming mayor just brought more people onto his side.”  

She could feel her father’s eyes on her, but Felicity kept watching until the end of the press conference.  Then she slowly breathed out--it was just a breath, it was not a sigh.  Because a sigh implied longing and desire and envy and a bunch of things Felicity wasn’t in a place to feel right now.  She still had a lot of work to do before she would be strong and healthy again.  Right now, she had good days and bad days.  While the bad days were greatly outnumbered by the good, there were still plenty of times when she wanted to not talk about how she was feeling, or just let herself work in the lab for the whole day without stopping, forgoing sleep and skipping meals and workouts to keep working. 

Learning how to manage stress and anxiety and working to create new healthy patterns wasn’t just about therapy, Felicity had discovered.  It was about taking care of herself.  Eating regular meals of food that didn’t all come from boxes or bags, getting enough sleep on a consistent basis, working out a few times a week, meditating or otherwise relaxing . . . it went hand-in-hand with her therapy.  When she was tired and hungry, it was so much easier for her to get stressed and avoid her issues.  

Now she understood why Oliver had always made such a big deal out of nutrition, why he still worked out even with all the parkour and archery he did.  It was what he needed to make sure he was able to handle whatever his life threw at him.

“So when are you planning to head back to Star City and fix things with Oliver?”

For the second time that morning, her father made her yelp in surprise.  “Dad!” she said, turning to look at him with wide eyes.  

“What?” Tony asked, shrugging his shoulders.  “It’s what you want.  Since you’re still in love with him.”

Felicity opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words.  Well, not really--it was more that she had about fourteen different thoughts and didn’t know which one to start with.  It was weird for her father to take an interest in her love life and virtually unprecedented for him to show such approval of Oliver that he would encourage her to resume her relationship with him.  She was only just starting to understand what she needed to do to feel healthy and strong again--was it wise to risk that by leaving her support system and diving back into her life?  The last thing she wanted was to look like she was abandoning Rhodey and the project to help him walk again, not to mention leaving behind her father when he was doing such good work in therapy, too.  

Most of all, though, the thought of starting over with Oliver . . . it scared her a little.  Ever since she had broken their engagement, she had tried not to think about what she felt for Oliver.  She had held fast to her anger at his betrayal of her father for as long as she could, but it had faded pretty quickly.  And once it had, she was left with the knowledge she had walked away from the man who had been like the mortar between the bricks of her life.  Oliver had supported her in every aspect: family, friends, work.  Was it any wonder that once he was gone, it was so much easier for everything to crumble?  Especially since she hadn’t been taking care of herself?  

Seeing him in the press conference just now had been enough to shake her.  What would happen when she saw him in person?  When she stood in front of him and tried to apologize, tried to ask for a second chance?  

“Someone’s lost in thought over a pretty simple concept,” her father said, his voice gentle.  “You love Oliver.  He loves you.”  

“Neither of us knows if he still loves me,” Felicity said, looking up at Tony.  “And . . . and I haven’t really thought about how I feel about him since the break-up.”  

“Doesn’t mean you still don’t have feelings for him,” Tony countered, resting his arms on the island’s counter.  “Big squishy love-type feelings.  Just like what he has for you, still--because after all, you’re Felicity Stark.  You’re pretty lovable.”  

She couldn’t help smiling a little at her father’s words, before she shook her head, her hair leaving trails of dampness over the shoulders of her t-shirt.  “Dad . . . I just don’t know.  I’ve only been thinking about each day as it comes.  And I have to say, it’s really throwing me to have you suddenly be Oliver’s biggest fan.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.  But . . . I can’t think of anyone better for you.”  Her father paused and made eye contact with her.  “He takes care of you, like--”  

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then Tony straightened up.  “Like Pepper took care of me.  And that’s pretty damn special, since he’s supposed to be the broken one, the one who needs someone to tell him his Social Security number and help him tie his shoes.  When I saw that, I realized Oliver was the right man for you.”  

“Wow, Dad,” Felicity breathed out.  “I never thought you would have anything but grudging acceptance for Oliver.”  

Tony shrugged.  “I’m never gonna like the guy who’s dating my daughter.  But I can sure as hell respect him.  Why do you think I wanted him on my side during this mess with Steve?  Nat coulda gotten us Barton with a phone call, and she offered to do it.  But I told her I thought we’d have a better chance with Oliver.”  

“You did?”  

“Yup,” he said, rising to his feet.  “So I just want you to know, if you feel like you’re up for going back to Star City, you don’t have to feel like you need to stay here for me.”

Felicity rested her chin in her hand, watching as Tony put some bread in the toaster.  “I haven’t really thought about what comes next . . . I’ve wanted to get healthy first.”

“That’s ‘cause you got patience.  You’ve always been able to work and wait, unlike me.”  

Smiling a little, Felicity ducked her head.  She couldn’t very well argue with her father about that, given how much they had talked about Tony’s impulsiveness and lack of patience.  It was funny: she had sometimes felt like she wasn’t as much of a genius as he was, since usually she had to put a lot of work into her ideas while her father’s concepts just seemed to develop spontaneously and completely.  Yet Tony had told her that he was so impressed with her ability to work and follow through.  

At this point, she wasn’t sure if she was quite ready to leave this cocoon and go be a butterfly.  Yet now that the idea was in her head, it was all she could think of.  What would it be like, to return to Star City?  To see Curtis in person, to get coffee with Laurel, to be back at work?  

For every good thing, though, like seeing people she had missed or diving back into her projects, there were--well, not bad things, but things that could knock her for a loop.  Like seeing Oliver, and . . . really, it all came down to seeing Oliver.  How would he react to her return after being gone for so long, when she had just up and left without even telling him first?  Had the time apart allowed him to see all of her flaws and decide the most they could be was friends?

“You’re thinkin’ pretty loud, Felicity,” her father said, putting a plate of toast in front of her.  He plopped down the jar of peanut butter, a knife and spoon, and a container of yogurt.  “Eat some breakfast and then we can go talk things over with the doc.”  

“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave.  It’s a big decision, to just go back,” Felicity said, picking up the knife and spreading peanut butter on her toast.  “But it is something to talk about . . .”  She let her voice trail off before she laughed.  “I suppose Doc Samson will say I’m ready, because I want to talk things over first.  That I want to use talking as a way to avoid leaving.”  

“Don’t worry, none of us are gonna let you bury yourself away here,” Tony said with a soft smile as he refilled her coffee.  “And Bruce and Rhodey and me have a gentleman’s wager on what would happen to that Curtis fellow if you just showed up at work without telling him you were coming back.”  

She snorted.  “Oh, yeah?”

“Yep!  Rhodey has fainting and Bruce has speaking in tongues.”  

Lifting her coffee mug, Felicity eyed her father.  “I’m almost scared to ask what your money is riding on.”  

“Let’s just say I hope the guy is wearing brown pants,” her father said with a grin.

“Oh, gross, Dad!”  Felicity wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“See?  That’s why you should leave, to get away from all us boorish, uncultured malefolks,” Tony replied.  “See you in the talking room in twenty.”  

Shaking her head, Felicity watched him leave as she nibbled on her toast.  It was true: as much as she loved her father and her honorary uncles, it would be nice to be around female company.  Maybe if she didn’t go straight back to Star City, she could stop off to see her mother or Caitlin first.  And once she was back in Star City, she could see Laurel.  Or Thea, if she was back in town and was willing to see Felicity after she broke up with Thea’s brother.  

Or Oliver.  Who was very male, yes, but . . . but once she was back in Star City, she was bound to see him.  

Which would be awkward and uncomfortable.  Ugh, why did her father have to put the idea of trying to start over with Oliver in her head?

Rubbing a hand over her forehead, Felicity resolved to finish her breakfast and not think about Oliver anymore.  At least, not just about Oliver.  Taking her phone, she began using the journaling app she had created during her first week in therapy.  She began a new entry, slowly working through her mixed emotions at the idea of returning to Star City.  

And the longer she wrote, the clearer it became that annoyingly enough, her father might be right.

XXX

After her morning therapy, where she had touched upon the whole idea of going back to Star City and Doc Samson had told her to continue thinking about it, Felicity went into the lab she had been using during her time at the Avengers compound.  She was ready to get to work, ready to think about something other than her tangled emotions.  

Not as a method of avoidance, but simply to give herself a break, she told herself as she fired up Skype and waited for Curtis.  The work on making the biostimulant implant ready for mass production was coming along well, and she was looking forward to getting an update.  

The Skype ‘call answered’ ding made Felicity straighten up in her chair, a smile on her face--a smile that immediately disappeared when she saw her friend and employee.  “Curtis!” she gasped.

He gave her a small, weak smile, one that did nothing to make his black eye look any better.  “Hey, Felicity.”  

“I thought you were just going to help with the computers and cover the comms!  What the hell happened?” Felicity asked, staring at the screen.

“An emergency?”  

Groaning, Felicity rubbed her forehead.  “Curtis.”  

The lanky engineer sighed.  “Look, Felicity, being around the team . . . seeing how getting rid of Damian Darhk doesn’t mean all the problems have gone away . . . it’s opened my eyes.  You have to know what I mean, you know?”

That was the problem.  She did know.  She had grown up around heroes, after all.  Had seen her father leave in the middle of dinner, seen family gatherings and parties empty out when the Avengers got a call.  Had seen Oliver do his best to juggle both parts of his life, watched as he succeeded against men like Malcolm Merlyn and Slade Wilson and Damian Darhk.  

It was inspiring and challenging.  It made you want to be part of that.  Felicity had felt those stirrings her entire life, yet she had managed to resist.  She had focused on her education, on Stark Industries, on doing good behind the scenes in small ways.  Being more like her mom and Peggy and even people like Doc Samson.

Then she had met Oliver, and fallen in love with him, and her desire to keep him safe outweighed anything else.  Even his very valid arguments that she was too busy to help him, arguments that she brushed aside because--

Well, because it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.  Felicity didn’t do well when people told her she couldn’t or shouldn’t do something.  Even when it was coming from a place of good intentions, she didn’t like it.  It was something she was trying to work on.  

Running a hand over her hair, she did her best to smile at Curtis.  “I do understand.  Particularly when it’s Oliver.”

Curtis smiled back at her.  “Yeah, I bet you do.”  His face immediately fell.  “I mean, what with you helping him for a while and being part of defeating the Undertaking and--”

“It’s okay, Curtis,” Felicity said, interrupting his flailing.  “I mean it.  Just promise me you’re being careful and not going into things half-cocked.”  

“Nope, fully cocked--and that was not a gay joke.  Or any kind of sex-related joke at all, since I took the SI sexual harassment seminar seriously.  Can I just stop talking now?”  

Felicity laughed a little.  “Then let’s get down to business.  How are things going in R&D and Biomechanical?”

“They’re good!  I think everyone is a lot happier to be working on non-weapons projects,” Curtis said, leaning closer to the screen and unfortunately giving her an even better view of his black eye.  “We’ve developed some tweaks that we think will make the neural mapping of the bioimplant more efficient, so it’ll happen faster.  Plus, we’ve had encouraging results in the prosthetics subdivision, using 3-D printing.”

Nodding, she took a few notes.  “What about those partnerships with the children’s hospitals?  Helping the kids come up with designs for their prosthetics?”

“Oh, you have to see what one kid came up with,” Curtis said excitedly.  He apparently grabbed a tablet and started tapping away on the screen, before he held the tablet up to the webcam.  

She leaned forward to make out the details.  “Oh my gosh, is that--”

“Designed to look like your dad’s armor?  Yup.”  

“Oh, Dad would love that,” Felicity said.  “I’ll tell him about it--maybe we could arrange something where he presents the prosthetic to the recipient.”  

“That would be pretty sweet,” Curtis said with a grin.  

Making another note about the idea, her mind moving quickly, she added, “And maybe Steve--”  

Then she remembered as much as this was the kind of thing Steve would love to be involved with, she couldn’t ask him to participate in this.  Not when he was on the run with Bucky, not after coming to such blows with her father.  

“Felicity?”

“Huh?” she asked, snapping out of her head at the sound of Curtis’s voice.  “Oh, sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

For a long moment, Felicity considered how she should answer that question.  Normally, she wouldn't exactly open her heart to a SI employee.  In truth, she rarely was emotionally open with people.  Even with her parents or with Oliver or Caitlin--people she implicitly trusted--she would only reluctantly share what she was feeling.  It was something she had been trying to work on, to improve her connections with others. 

And really . . . Curtis was more than an employee.  He was a friend, too. 

Twirling the pen in her hand, she looked at the screen, taking in Curtis.  “Going to a hospital to meet sick or injured kids?  That was something Steve was always up for.  I think my dad appreciated having his company on those visits.  So it makes me feel . . . sad.  That we can't just call Steve and ask him to come along.”

Curtis nodded, clearly weighing his words before speaking. 

“Can't?  Like you don't have a way to reach him?  Or can't, because you don't know what to say and you don't want to make things worse?”

“Both.  With a heaping dose of ‘would he even want to talk to me?’”

“That doesn't sound like Captain America,” Curtis replied. 

Felicity blew out a breath.  “Steve is a lot more than Captain America.  I just . . . I don't know how to talk to him now.  After everything's that happened.”

One eyebrow quirking upwards, Curtis tilted his head to one side but didn't say anything.  And it felt awkward, not talking, so she went on. 

“He's been through so much, put so much on the line, and we were on opposite sides, but I ended up agreeing with him more than I thought I would.  And there's just something about Oliver that makes you want to be on his side, that inspires you, that--”

“Oliver?” Curtis interrupted. 

“What?” she asked, frowning.  “What do you mean, Oliver?”

“You just said there's something about  _ Oliver  _ that makes you want to be on his side.”

She stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open.  Curtis gave her a small, knowing smile before he leaned forward and spoke quietly.  “Felicity, do you want to talk about Oliver?  Because if you do, I'm happy to accommodate that.  Since I'm kinda like your man in Havana.”

“Yes.  No.  Maybe.  Argh!”  Felicity leaned back in her chair, scrubbing her hands through her hair.  “I was trying not to think about him.  Because my dad suggested it might be time for me to come back to Star City, to, y’know, get back to my old life.  So now I can't think of anything but that question, and a big part of whatever answer I'll come up with involves Oliver.”

Curtis nodded.  “Because once you're back here, you're bound to run into Oliver at some point.”

“Not to mention the press watching us like we're dead mice and they're vultures.”

“That . . . is not a happy visual,” Curtis said as he shuddered a little.  “Okay, moving on from that--I don't think you should make your decision hinge on how the paparazzi will take it.  Or how Oliver will take it, for that matter.  It should be about what you want to do, whether you want to move back here.  I mean, it's not like you couldn't go work in another SI office.  If you did that, you really could start over.”

Well, that idea had not crossed her mind.  Curtis was right, though--she didn't have to go back to Star City. She could move home to LA, be close to her dad, encourage her mom to leave New York and come back to California, work in the headquarters of Stark Industries, really lobby for her projects and get more support for the divisions she had begun… 

And it would be taking the easy way out. Felicity could see that very clearly: not going back to Star City would be letting her fears dictate her actions. That was what she used to do; that was what she had spent the last two months trying to change. 

As tempting as a clean slate would be, it wasn't what she really wanted.  She missed her friends, she missed her favorite restaurants, she missed the energy of Star City.  It had been a hard place to feel like you belonged, but after living there for four years, it was home to Felicity.  It was the place she wanted to be. 

“I can tell by your face that you're not going anywhere but Star City,” Curtis commented after a few moments of silence. 

“You’re right,” Felicity said.  “What can I say?  It’s home now, which is amazing since I spent months after I moved there feeling like an outsider.  Like I would never fit in  But I do, and . . . and besides, if I went anywhere else, I’d just be falling back into the same habits I’m trying to break.”

“You go, girl,” Curtis said with a smile.  “You’re gonna take the city by storm.  Felicity Stark: now even more in charge.”

With a laugh, Felicity shook her head at her friend.  “I guess we’ll see.  I’m not quite ready to leave here, but . . . I think it’s going to be pretty soon.”

“It’ll be great to have you back,” Curtis affirmed.  He paused and took a breath.  “Could I give you a piece of advice?”

At her nod, Curtis adjusted his own glasses.  “Even if you don’t know what to say--to Steve or Oliver or whomever--the important thing is reaching out.  Being the one to step up.  Because if he doesn’t know what to say either and therefore isn’t calling you, then how will you guys ever talk again?  And is that what you really want?”

Felicity sucked in a breath as the wisdom of Curtis’s words sunk in.  Someone had to start the conversation and after months of ducking chances to reach out and connect . . . this could be just what she needed to know, if she was ready to return to her life.

“Thanks, Curtis.  That was good advice.”

He smiled at her.  “My grandfather used to say, ‘Allow me to give you the benefit of my wisdom without the burden of my advice.’  But since I don’t have much in the way of wisdom, once in a blue moon I give some advice.”

“Oh, I don’t know--I think you’ve got a bit of your grandfather in you,” Felicity told him, her thoughts whizzing around in her head.

There were so many people she wanted to contact.  So many conversations she wanted to have, just to find out how people were doing.  People like Laurel and Tommy, Caitlin and Ronnie, and Steve and Nat and Clint and so many more.

In this moment, she knew she wanted to be part of their lives, just like they were part of her life.  Her world had gotten so small after her shooting, because she had stopped returning phone calls, stopped using Facebook and Instagram, stopped being somebody who knew about the lives of her friends.

She was going to change that.  And she knew who she wanted to start with.

XXX

Tapping her fingers impatiently against the surface of her desk, Felicity listened to the buzz of the phone, ringing and ringing.  Although whether it was impatience or nerves leading to her fidgeting, Felicity wasn’t sure.  Both were quite possible.

Just as she thought she should hang up and try again--maybe he was asleep, maybe his phone wasn’t charged--the ringing cut off and a warm voice she knew very well answered.  

“Hello?” Steve Rogers said, warring notes of suspicion and concern in his voice.

That was just so Steve that Felicity felt herself smile, even as her vision blurred slightly with tears.

“Hi, Steve.  It’s Felicity.”

“Felicity?  Really?  Wow--I wasn’t expecting this,” he replied, sounding surprised.

“No?  You didn’t expect me to call you at some point?”

Steve chuckled softly.  “No, not like that.  Of course I thought, or really I hoped, that someday we could talk.  I just don’t know how you found me, unless Tony didn’t chuck the phone I sent him.”

Felicity remembered the day that phone had arrived, accompanied by Steve’s letter of apology.  It had been just a few days after she and her father had both started therapy.  During a session, Tony had suddenly started talking about the letter, his parents, and how he now knew how his parents had died.

It had been the start of a few grueling sessions for both of them.  Yet it had also made Felicity realize that as bad as things had been between her father and Steve, the bond between the two men hadn’t been completely severed.  Steve was contrite for withholding the truth and Tony slowly came to understand why Steve had held back.

There still hadn’t been any contact between the two former co-leaders of the Avengers, Felicity’s prodding of her dad notwithstanding.  But just because her father wasn’t talking to Steve yet didn’t mean she had to stay away.  Not when she knew reaching out was what she needed to do.

“No, I didn’t need to use the phone,” Felicity told Steve.

“But--how then . . . ?”

“If it’s online, I can find it,” Felicity said airily, smiling as she spoke.

Once again, Steve let out that warm, proud chuckle she loved to hear.  “All right, then.  It’s good to hear your voice.  Especially since . . . well, you sound better.”

“I’m working on it,” she replied.  “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I can walk now.”

“I had heard that--I’m so happy for you, Felicity.  Seeing you in that chair, it was just wrong.  Like how I felt the first time I saw Peggy in a hospital bed, after I came out of the ice.”

Felicity felt the tears threaten again at Steve’s words.  “Thank you.”

“I think everyone felt like that,” Steve said.  “Everyone who knows you, who knows of you.  When I finally found Bucky, he had some lucid moments.  You know what he said to me?”

Gripping the phone tightly, she shook her head, then said, “No . . .”

He paused, then quietly said, “How’s Pigtails?”

With a sniff, Felicity slipped her fingers under her glasses to wipe at her eyes.  “He’s always going to call me Pigtails.”

“Yep,” Steve said, the smile evident in his voice.  “And hopefully, soon he’ll be back, calling you Pigtails and making jokes with Oliver.”

The mention of Oliver reminded her that Steve must not know about what had happened between herself and Oliver.  And Felicity felt a sudden diminishment of her courage, a desire to not tell her favorite uncle what she had done.  Not yet.  So she kept the focus on Bucky.

“What’s the plan for Bucky?  Do you know what caused him to regress to the Winter Soldier?”

“There was a bunch of psychological conditioning that had been done to him,” Steve said after a few moments.  His voice had lost its lightness and cheer at the shift in their conversation.  “The Soviets, HYDRA, both--who knows.  This guy Zemo, he learned about it and decided to use Bucky as a way to get revenge for Sokovia, by destroying the Avengers from the inside.”

“So . . . he triggered Bucky to be only the Winter Soldier?” Felicity asked, needing to ask because she was so shocked.

There was silence on the line, and then Steve said through gritted teeth, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Steve--we don’t have to talk about this,” she said quickly, not liking how he was sounding.  And maybe part of her didn’t want to think about Bucky being so easy to control, when he had been the one to tell her stories about his sisters in Brooklyn and teaching them how to protect themselves, and then he had taught her.  For a man who only wanted to protect others, losing control and hurting them must have been an incredibly painful realization.  Since what hurt Bucky also hurt Steve, both of her uncles must be suffering.

“No, no.  I’m okay,” Steve said.  “I just hate that I couldn't do more to help Buck.  That I couldn’t find a way to fix him.  We couldn’t figure out how to get the conditioning out of his head, so . . . he went into deep freeze at a facility in Wakanda.”

“Wakanda?!?!?” Felicity blurted out.  “I thought T’Challa wanted Bucky dead.”

“Lucky for all of us, the Black Panther had a change of heart,” he replied.  “And it was the safest place to leave Bucky, until I know how to help him be safe.”

She leaned back in her chair.  “You’re on the run, though, Steve.  It can’t be easy for you . . .”

“Not really, no.  But what can I do?  It’s Bucky.”

Just like always, it came back to Bucky.  He was all that Steve had left now, and Felicity wasn’t surprised by his actions.  That was the wonderfully infuriating thing about Steve: he was so loyal, nothing would stop him from jumping in with both feet to defend the people he loved.

“You can let me help you--that’s what you can do,” Felicity said.  “I can go through the HYDRA files, see what I can learn about the conditioning.”  

“That’s a lot of work, Felicity . . .”  

“Once I get an algorithm to go through the data, it’ll be just a matter of time,” Felicity said, her mind already contemplating this challenge.  

He huffed out a breath. “You make it sound easy, but I know there’s so many files--”

“I want to help, Steve.  You don’t have to do this all on your own.”

Her words came quickly, interrupting Steve.  And Felicity suddenly realized just how alike they were.  How hesitant they both were to rely on someone else, whether to not be a burden or to keep others safe.  

And it was the same for Oliver, too.  He would rather be on his own instead of putting someone else at risk or making their life harder.  But Oliver had managed to overcome that problem, by building a team--and then, when the team left him, he started a new one.  He had learned to trust other people.  And if Oliver could learn . . . why couldn’t she, too?  

“I broke off my engagement to Oliver,” Felicity blurted out, suddenly wanting to tell Steve everything.  Wanting to lean on him, as she was asking him to lean on her.

“You did?  When did that happen?”  Steve sounded confused but worried.  “Are you okay?”  

She sniffed, feeling overwhelmed at opening this Pandora’s Box.  “That’s . . . hard to say.  I ended things when I came back after Peggy’s funeral.”  

“Jeez, Felicity--that was months ago.  What happened?”  

Only pausing to snag the box of tissues by her bed, Felicity began talking, explaining the fight with Oliver, the chip beginning to function, and her choice to walk out on him.  Steve didn’t say much, just listening to her and making occasional sounds of acknowledgement.  She found herself telling him things that were still hard for her to talk about, like Havenrock, and Steve just kept listening.    

“Dad suggested that I’m ready to go back to Star City, to try and fix things with Oliver, but . . . I just don’t know where to start,” Felicity said, wiping at her eyes with a soggy tissue.  “Or even if I  _ should  _ start.  Because maybe he doesn’t want to be involved with someone who wiped out a whole town.”  

“C’mon, Felicity.  I think Oliver, of all people, understands what happened in that situation,” Steve said.  “You had to make a horrible choice, but you made it so that the fewest people possible were killed.  That’s what heroes have to do.  We can’t save everyone.”  

“I never wanted to be a hero, though--this is why I never wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps,” Felicity whispered, before she moved the phone away so she could cry a little.  

Dimly, she heard Steve saying her name, so she brought the phone back to her ear.  “I’m--I’m here.”  

“Good,” Steve said, his voice full of empathy and understanding.  “Because I’ve got something to say.  What makes you think you aren’t a hero?  Because you are.  You might not wear a suit or carry a shield, but you’re a hero, Felicity Stark, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.  Not even yourself.  Everything you’ve overcome this year proves you’re a hero, and that means facing Oliver when you go back to Star City.”  

“But what if--”

Felicity didn’t really mean to argue with Steve, but she just couldn’t see what he saw.  And she was pretty sure that while Oliver might be able to forgive what she had done, that didn’t mean he would want to be romantically involved with her again.  But Steve didn’t seem to want anything to do with her doubts--not with the way he steamrolled her.

“Until you go back to Star City and have a honest conversation with Oliver, all you’ve got are questions.  Questions that you can’t come up with good answers to, which is why you need to hear what Oliver has to say.”  Steve paused, then continued, his voice a bit softer.  “Here’s a question you could answer: do you still love him?”  

Holding on to her phone tightly, Felicity closed her eyes.  Even though she was alone in her room, closing her eyes let the whole world fall away, giving her the privacy she needed in this moment so she could be vulnerable.  

“Yes.”  

“I thought so.  Because you and Oliver have something, Felicity,” Steve said.  “So I think you should head back to Star City when you feel ready, and sit down with Oliver and find out where you stand with each other.”  

When she opened her eyes, she found herself nodding in agreement with Steve.  It made her laugh a little.  “Wow.  You’re really good at giving relationship advice.”  

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Steve said with his own laugh.  “I love you like you were my daughter, Felicity.  You’re my family.  You and Tony and Pepper, Oliver and John, Rhodey and Bruce.  Even though we’ve been fighting.”  

“Family doesn’t end with blood,” Felicity said, repeating Steve’s words from Peggy’s funeral.

“Exactly,” he said.  “If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here.  And . . . and I’ll try to take my own advice.”  

Running a hand through her hair, Felicity smiled.  “Me, too.  Steve--thank you.  So much.”  

“Any time,” he said softly.  “We’ll talk more soon.”  

“Yes--definitely.  Especially once I have something about Bucky.  Because I want to help him, and going through some computer files is something I can do,” Felicity said firmly.  “I’ll get to work on that.  Along with . . . getting ready to go back to Star City,” she finished in a rush.

“Attagirl,” Steve said, pride and warmth in his voice.  

They exchanged goodbyes and Felicity hung up her phone, letting it drop onto her desk.  She set the box of tissues beside it, along with her glasses.

She hadn’t expected to pour out her troubles to Steve like that.  She wasn’t sure if that was how she wanted to reach out to everyone.  But even though she felt wrung out and exhausted, she also felt . . . lighter.  Getting to talk about her problems, letting Steve carry them for a little while, made it easier to face all of them once they were back on her shoulders.  

And she knew what she wanted to do now.

End, Chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of important conversations in this chapter, with the three people who are most important to Felicity . . . Plus, she gets a haircut!

 

“How are your plans coming to return to Star City?”

Felicity wrinkled her nose at Doc Samson.  “Isn’t that what we’ve spent this whole session talking about?  What we’ve spent the last two weeks discussing?”

“No, we’ve discussed the various impacts of you leaving here: how it would affect your father, what you hope to accomplish once you return home, even your feelings about your ex-fiancé.  Yet you haven’t told me anything about when or how you’re going back.”  

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at this splitting of hairs, Felicity blew out a breath.  “Well, I rented an apartment when I moved out of the loft I shared with Oliver.  I didn’t really like it, though, so I’d like to find someplace new.  Something closer to SI, something better located.  And . . . I think I’d like to cut back on my protection detail.  Start driving myself to work and other places, rather than having Rob do it all the time.”  

Just by the look on the doctor’s face, she knew he wasn’t very satisfied by her answers.  And honestly, neither was she, not now that Doc Samson had pointed out how she was avoiding the topic.  

“And once I get back, I’m going to talk to Oliver,” she said slowly, her fingers twisting slightly in her lap.

He nodded slowly.  “Good.  That’s an important step for you to take.”  

“A step towards what, though?” Felicity asked.  And that wasn’t in a fully rhetorical way.  

“You’ll find out.  Although you might want to contemplate what you hope it might be a step towards.  After all, if you know what you want your final destination to be, it’s much easier to know the direction you should begin.”  

That made sense.  Normally, she would have no problems setting a goal for herself.  Yet it didn’t seem so simple in this case, since it wasn’t as if her own behavior and actions and choices were the only consideration.  She could decide on what she want, but if Oliver didn’t feel the same way . . . 

Well, at least then she would know.  Removing uncertainty from her life seemed like a good idea.  

“You’ve had a lot of upheaval in your recent past, Felicity,” Doc Samson continued.  “During our sessions together, you’ve worked hard to unpack what causes you to stress and what behaviors you want to change.  If you remember that, you’ll be all right.”  

“I already have an appointment set up with a therapist in Star City,” Felicity shared.  “I don’t want to fall back into bad habits.”  

“That’s very wise--and a sign of how conscious you are of the changes you want to make,” the doctor said, an approving note to his voice.  “Eventually, you won’t have to work so hard to remember and react in the way you wish.  But until then, being conscious of your behavior is what you’ll need to do.”  

With a glance at the clock, Doc Samson smiled at her.  “And that brings us to an end for today.  When will you be leaving for Star City?”

“In three days.  I’m going to stay with my friends Tommy and Laurel while I look for an apartment.  Hopefully that won’t take too long, so I can get out of their hair.”  

Before, she would have just stayed in a hotel.  Yet as part of her plans to be a bigger part of her friends’ lives, she had called Laurel and, over the course of their conversation, had asked if she could stay with the Merlyns when she returned to Star City.  The enthusiastic reaction from Laurel--and how Felicity felt at receiving such a reaction--had convinced her it was the right call.  

Rising to her feet, Felicity smiled back at the doctor and held her hand out to him.  “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Doc.”  

“I was happy to help, Felicity,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and looking at her intently.  “You should be proud of your progress, but if you find you need some help along the way, I’m only a phone call away.  Something I’ll reiterate for both you and your father in your joint session tomorrow.”

She smiled and opened her mouth to respond, only to be distracted by her phone vibrating in her pocket.  “Speaking of phone calls,” she said, fishing her phone out and seeing it was Curtis.  “I’ll remember that, Doc.  Thanks.”  

With a spring in her step, Felicity walked away from the doctor and out of the therapy room, pressing the button to answer the call.  “Hey, Curtis, what’s up?”

There was a moment of silence, a silence that made her draw up short because it felt odd.  Then her heart skipped a beat when Oliver said, “You’re not Thea.”  

“And--and you’re not Curtis,” Felicity said slowly, before she shook her head.  “Oliver.  Hi.  I don’t understand what’s going on.”  

“Me, neither,” he said.  “I thought I was calling Thea.  Obviously.  Although . . . now I understand why Thea and Curtis were talking the other night.”  

“They--they probably messed with the contacts on our phones,” Felicity speculated.  “Did Thea borrow your phone recently?”

There was another pause, one that gave her time to think.  To wonder where he was, what he was doing, what he looked like in this moment.  Shaking her head, she made herself focus on the conversation.  

“She did.  This morning.  Although you thought I was Curtis . . . ?”

“Curtis must have hacked my phone.  I’ve got an employee to severely discipline after we finish up,” Felicity said, trying to make her voice sound light and breezy.  

When Oliver huffed out a soft chuckle, Felicity actually had to close her eyes.  It . . . it had been so long since she had heard that little laugh of his, the one that always accompanied a special look of his.  The one that said he thought she was adorable.  

“No, you won’t,” Oliver said quietly. 

“You’re right--I won’t,” she said, drawing in a breath.  “So, hey.  How’s it going?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced.  Could she be any more banal?  Oliver wasn’t some high school acquaintance she was catching up with, he was . . . 

Felicity bit her lip as she realized she wasn’t quite sure what Oliver was.  Ex-fiancé was technically correct, but it didn’t feel right.  Lover--ugh, and also not accurate.  Maybe she should just settle on love of her life and leave it at that.  

“I’m . . . I’m good,” Oliver said, with an unusual reticence in his voice.  “Busy.  Getting ready for the election.”  

“Oh--right.  That’s soon, isn’t it?”

“A month away.  It’s gotten intense, but things look good.  Especially now that Thea and Roy are back,” Oliver said, a flicker of warmth in his tone--as there always was when he talked about his sister.  

Wrapping her free arm across her chest, Felicity bent her head.  “I told you that she would be back in time for the election.”  

“You did, and you were right.  Just like always,” Oliver said.  

God, she could totally picture him in her mind.  How he was shuffling his feet and ducking his head, before he would look up with that shy smile on his face.  The one that made him look like a little boy, in a way that that never failed to melt her.  

“That’s great, Thea being back,” Felicity said quickly.  “Curtis told me that you’ve started a new team--that he’s helping you--but having Speedy back with the Green Arrow, it must make things easier for you.  And not just out in the field, either.”

“It is.  Thea’s working with me in the mayor’s office.  She’s--she’s great at it.  She reminds me of our mom,” Oliver replied wistfully, his grief over his mother’s death more muted after two years, but nevertheless present.  

She could remember the day his mother had died, killed by Slade Wilson.  When Felicity had gotten the news, she had wrapped her arms around Oliver, holding him tightly with his face against her neck, his tears so wet and warm against her skin.  

Tightening the arm around her middle, Felicity cleared her throat.  “I’m really happy for you, Oliver.”  

“Yeah?” he asked softly.  “Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her throat still feeling scratchy.

“So . . . Curtis says you’ve been with your dad,” Oliver said.    

Was that the sound of judgment in his voice?  Or was it concern?  Or another emotion she just couldn’t figure out at this point?  This was why she hated phone calls.  

“I am.  I actually came to the Avengers compound, because Rhodey was here.  He was paralyzed during the battle in Leipzig, so . . .”  

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Felicity.”  The sincerity in Oliver’s voice made her relax, letting go of a small portion of the tension that had worked its way throughout her body.  “How is Rhodey doing?”

“He’s okay.  I’ve been doing a lot of work with Curtis, to try and make mass production of the biostimulant implant a reality,” Felicity explained, slowly starting the walk towards her room.  She changed her mind, though, and headed towards the kitchen for a bottle of water.  “That’s taking up a lot of my time.”  

There was a long pause, and then Oliver said in a distracted tone, “I’m wishing you all the luck in the world.  I’m sorry, but I have to get to a meeting, Felicity.  But--this was good.  I’m glad we talked.”  

“You are?  I thought this was the most awkward conversation ever,” Felicity replied before she could stop herself.  And then she wished with all of her might that she could take the words back.  She felt entirely too vulnerable, now that Oliver knew how uncertain she was.  

To her surprise, Oliver let out that little chuckle again.  “Well, yeah--it was awkward.  But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t still good.  I’ve been worried about you . . . and you sound better now.  I hope you are feeling better.”  

Bursting into tears would definitely give Oliver the wrong idea, but that was what she felt like doing.  Because God, how could he be this  _ nice  _ to her, after all that she had done?  All the ways she had hurt him, all the ways she had made his life harder.  It wasn’t the kind of polite, impersonal kindness towards someone you had no feelings for, either--Felicity could tell.  At least, she thought she could tell.

“I’m getting there,” she said through the looming tears, even as she did her best to smile.  “You should go, do your mayoral duties.  We’ll talk more another time.  Bye, Oliver.”

“Goodbye, Felicity.”  

Damn it, he still said her name the same way: soft and gentle and special, like no one else said it.  Felicity stabbed the end button on her phone, then leaned against the wall of the hallway and slid down.  In a seated position, she let her head fall back to rest against the wall, gazing up at the ceiling through the tears in her eyes.  

It certainly had been awkward.  It hadn’t gotten much beyond small talk.  Yet . . . it still felt good.  To hear Oliver’s voice, to get the first conversation over with, to know he didn’t apparently hold any enmity towards her for leaving Star City.  

More than that . . . she knew, once and for all, that she did want to reconcile with Oliver.  She wanted to fix what she had broken.  Since she was still in love with him and knew she had made one of the biggest mistakes in her life by walking out on him.  

How did you fix what you had broken, though?  How did she start?  Felicity ran a hand over her hair and blew out a breath.  She would have to do some thinking--and fast, since soon she would be back in Star City.  If there was one thing she knew, it wouldn’t take long before she would cross paths with Oliver.  For a big city, Star City was like a small town in that way.  

For now, though . . . she was going to call Curtis and find out just how Thea had persuaded him to hack her phone.

XXX

Leaning back in her normal chair in the therapy room, Felicity was only distantly aware of the conversation Tony was having with Doc Samson--something about choices and consequences and the impact on people in your life.  She was too distracted by her whirling thoughts, trying to work out how to tell Oliver what she had learned over the last two months.  

It started with explaining how much she had been struggling for years: starting the SI office in Star City, feeling so much pressure, taking on more than she could handle despite the urging of the people closest to her--it had been an untenable situation.  And then when she had been shot and paralyzed, she was brought to her breaking point.  How could she explain that to Oliver and make him not feel guilty or responsible?  She had to make it clear that none of what had happened was his fault, and she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing more to do with her.  Yet she didn’t want to say that, because . . . she wanted Oliver to have not given up on her.  

She wanted there to still be hope for her.  For them.

“You’ve been very quiet, Felicity.  Do you have anything to add?”  

The sound of Doc Samson’s voice made Felicity bang her knee against the wooden arm of the chair.  She yelped at the impact on her funny bone and rubbed her knee.  “Um, I’m sorry, what?”

“Your father was just discussing his work on understanding the fallout from his choices.  I thought you might offer him your perspective,” the doctor said, eyeing her over his notebook.  

Shifting in her chair, Felicity ignored the pins-and-needles sensation in her knee.  “Oh . . . . I don’t know.”  

“C’mon, Felicity, you’ve got to have something to say,” Tony said, pacing in front of her.  “This is your chance, after all those years of not-so-subtly rolling your eyes or exchanging those looks with your mother.”

“Are you saying we just suffered in silence all the time, letting you do whatever you wanted?” Felicity scoffed.  “Seriously, Dad--there was always someone who was trying to keep you in check.  Happy, Rhodey, Mom, me . . . you just never listened to any of us.”  

“ _ Au contraire _ \--I listened.”  

Her father’s knee-jerk disagreement made her want to roll her eyes and huff like a teenager.  Instead, she let out a sarcastic chuckle.  “Sure, Dad, right.  Like how I asked you to stop calling me ‘princess’ when I was fifteen--you totally listened.”  

“When was the last time I called you princess?”

Felicity opened her mouth, but then the words failed her as she tried to remember.  And . . . she couldn’t remember.  Her father had been calling her princess her entire life, yet now that she thought about it, she couldn’t recall when he had stopped doing so.  Sometime since she arrived and they had both started therapy was the closest she could narrow it down to.  

Lifting her eyes to her father’s face, Felicity blinked at his sheepish expression.  

“It was something the doc pointed out.  That the nickname, as sweet as it was, might make you think I didn’t value you as an independent, adult woman,” Tony said, scuffing his foot against the rug.  “And that it made me feel like I had to handle you with kid gloves.”  

“Oh, Dad--no,” Felicity said, standing up and taking his arm.  “I didn’t feel like that.  I swear.”  

He gave her a weak smile.  “No?”  

“Well . . .” she hedged, before admitting, “It got on my nerves a little bit when things were bad in the spring, when I was asking you what was going on and you just . . . dismissed me.  It made me feel like you wanted to shut me up in a tower somewhere.”  

“I did.  To keep you as far away from me as possible,” Tony said.  “Because I was a mess and I was pulling everyone down with me.  Your mother was smart, getting away from me--at least, that’s what I thought.  I didn’t see that she was falling apart, too.  And when I fall apart, I get big and loud and dramatic, but Pepper--”

“She pulls in and gets even more hesitant to talk about herself,” Felicity continued.  She looked down.  “I get that from her.”  

Her father gently rubbed her shoulders.  “Yeah, you do.  Remember that brunch, with us and you and Oliver?  You were putting on a brave face, but I could see it was just an act.  But I couldn’t figure out a way to get through to you . . . just like I’ve never been able to figure out a way with your mom.  But I think I’ve got a few ideas now.”  

“That’s something I’ve been helping Tony with,” Doc Samson said, making her remember there was someone else in the room.  “Felicity, I’d like to come back to your point about Tony not listening to anyone else.”  He paged through his notebook and read, “How he needs people to ‘keep him in check’.”  

“Because I do,” Tony said blithely.  

“That was a poor choice of words,” Felicity countered, moving to sit back down.  “I meant more that everything is better when Dad has plenty of support in his life.  People to help remind him to eat and sleep, people that let him stop and realize not everyone thinks as fast as he does.”  

Doc Samson pursed his lips.  “Hmmm.”  

“That’s why Mom and Dad seem to work, I always thought--Mom could get through to him like no one else could,” Felicity added.

“That’s not fair for Pepper.  Or for you, Felicity,” Tony argued, looking like he was gearing up for a rant, but at a look from the doctor, Tony huffed and took a seat.  

Felicity wondered at that, but Doc Samson brought her attention back to him.  “Felicity, in light of this discussion, how did you feel when your parents’ marriage was breaking up?”  

“We--we’ve talked about that . . .” she said, shifting in her chair.  Which was true--several of the joint sessions between Felicity and Tony had revolved around their relationship, in particular over the last six months.  

“I know, but with this idea of needing to keep your father in check, did you feel like you needed to step in and take your mother’s place in this role?”

“I’ve already said it’s not like keeping him in check,” Felicity countered.  “It’s more . . . it’s really easy for Dad to get caught up in projects, in ideas, and go off the rails.  And he knows that--otherwise, he would have never created J.A.R.V.I.S.  Or hired Mom as his assistant.  He knows he needs help.  So earlier this year, when Mom had left and he didn’t have J.A.R.V.I.S. anymore--not that there’s anything wrong with Friday, she’s just new--yeah, I guess I thought I needed to help him.  That he didn’t have anyone else.”  

Doc Samson nodded slowly, his face thoughtful.  Tony had risen to his feet and started pacing again, looking like he really wanted to say something but holding his tongue, which made Felicity realize there was something she wasn’t quite grasping.  Frowning, she ran through what she had said, what her father had said.  

“You’re saying that was wrong?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

“Not wrong, per se,” the therapist said, only for Tony to finally give up on restraint.  

“That’s not your job, prin--Felicity.  It’s not anyone’s job but mine, really.  The help is good--and you’re right, there’s times I need it, just like everyone does.  But I gotta start dealing with my ‘hyperactive toddler on a sugar high’ tendencies.  Because the last thing you needed, with everything you were going through, was to feel responsible for me.  Especially since you pretty much turned your back on your mom, on Oliver, ‘cause of me.  You took all your anger out on them, when you wanted to get mad at me, but you felt like you couldn’t.”  

The raw emotion on her father’s face, in his voice, made Felicity look down.  She swallowed as she tried to remember what she had learned in therapy so far, as she tried to honor her emotions while also maintaining a sense of logic and focus.  It was hard, though--because she hadn’t put her finger on just why she had been so upset on her father’s behalf during the spring.  But with the benefit of a little distance, it was true in a way.  She had been angry with her mother for leaving her father, for not being there for him.  And she had been so, so angry with Oliver when she found out he had turned down her father, had refused to support the Accords.  She had seen it as a betrayal, which was just ridiculous in retrospect.  It wasn’t fair to Oliver, really: because if he had supported her father, contrary to his own beliefs, as she had wanted him to do, Oliver would be betraying himself.  Something she should have never asked of him.  

Sorting through all this made her feel confused.  Because what Tony was saying, it felt like the truth.  A truth  she hadn’t figured out on her own--and she didn’t know how her father had worked it out, because it seemed like he knew more than she thought about her relationship with Pepper, not to mention Oliver.  Yet putting a finger on the reason why she had blown things up with her mother and her fiancé--it felt like that could be the key to not just fixing her relationship with each of her parents, but with Oliver, too.    

How, though?  Not to mention, why?  Felicity grimaced and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache blossom.  

“I don’t understand,” she said, looking at Tony.  “Why . . . why would I do this to myself?”  

“Humans are very, very good at acting against their own interests.  Particularly when they’re faced with a conflicting set of desires, and any choice would represent some kind of loss,” Doc Samson provided.  

Letting out a laugh, Felicity nodded.  Because wasn’t that how she had felt, all spring?  That no matter what she did, she was going to lose?  

“I know this is a lot for you to think about, Felicity, just as you’re preparing for a stressful event, but I do believe you’ll be able to handle this.  Keep thinking, keep questioning, and keep remembering that you have many people who love you.  Who are willing to help you,” Doc Samson said.  

“Like me,” Tony said, walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of Felicity.  “I mean it.  I know when times are bad, you just wanna act like nothing’s bothering you and keep everyone from figuring it out, but Felicity, we notice.  And we want to help.  Okay?”

Felicity nodded, smiling slowly.  “Okay,” she said, her voice cracking a little.  “I--I’m gonna work on that, too.  Gee, Doc, I didn’t know you were going to give me so much homework before I left.  I feel like I’m back in school.”  

Both Tony and the doctor chuckled as Felicity rubbed her hands against her pants.  “I’ve got a lot to think about.  And a lot of packing.”  

Saying goodbye to Doc Samson and giving her father a hug, Felicity rose to her feet and slowly walked out of the therapy room.  What she had said was true on both counts.  She did have a lot to do before her flight to Star City the day after tomorrow.  But she thought she could wrap things up enough to let her do something else first.  

Once she was back in her bedroom, Felicity pulled her phone out of her pocket.  She quickly dialed as she opened the closet and pulled out her suitcase.  

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s Felicity,” she said as she hefted her suitcase onto the bed and opened it.  She tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she unzipped the case.  “How are you doing?”

“I”m good.  You sound out of breath--is everything okay?”  

She smiled a little.  “I have an idea.  Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

XXX

“Oh, this has been good,” Pepper said with a smile as she sat down across from Felicity.  “I’m so glad you came to the city a day early, so we could spend some time together.”  

Felicity nodded, one hand unable to resist going up to touch her hair.  It had been so long since her hair had been this short, and she wasn’t used to the feeling of her hair not touching her shoulders.  

“You look wonderful,” Pepper said, gently reaching out and pulling Felicity’s hand away.  “The haircut makes you look very grown-up.  Ready to take on life with a new attitude, because that’s what a new hairstyle is all about.”  

Doing her best to smile, Felicity nodded.  “Thanks.”  

It was true: with the haircut, Felicity did feel like it was easy to remember her new approach to life.  That she wanted to do things differently.  Which included not avoiding her problems or letting her past interfere with her future.  

Now that she was with her mom in their favorite restaurant in New York, ensconced in their usual booth, she felt ready to ask a question that had bothered her for months, a question that had become more pressing in the last few days.  Her realization about how similar she and Pepper were, in how they handled stress, was making her wonder if there were other ways they were alike.  Ways that could explain their romantic relationships.

“Mom?  Can I ask you something?”

Pepper looked up from her menu.  “Of course, Felicity.”  

_ Here goes nothing _ , she thought as she took a deep breath.  “Mom, why did you leave Dad?”

“Oh,” Pepper said, looking surprised.  She shifted in her seat.  “Is that why you came early?  To talk to me about that?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.  It’s something that’s been on my mind, and . . . and I’d like to know.  If it’s not too hard for you.  But it--it would help me, Mom.”  

Her mother immediately set down her menu and reached across the table to take Felicity’s hand.  “No, no, I want to tell you.  It would be good for me, too.  To talk about it.”  

Squeezing Pepper’s hand, Felicity gave her a weak smile.  “Okay.”  

“Okay,” Pepper repeated, taking a deep breath.  “For years, I’ve been worrying about your father.  Ever since the battle against Loki in New York, I knew he wasn’t handling the stress.  What he saw . . . it changed him.  And I tried to help him, but I wasn’t enough of a help.  Or I wasn’t the right kind of help.  That had never happened before.”  

Nodding, Felicity kept holding her mother’s hand as she listened.  Pepper smiled a little at her, resting her other hand on top of their joined hands.  

“I thought that maybe I wasn’t helping at all.  That I was hurting.  That perhaps I should just let Tony be free, and then, maybe he would figure out what he needed.”  Her mother paused, then blew out a breath.  “Really, I was just scared for him, and I didn’t know how to get through to him.  And my own insecurities and fears just got to be so much . . . I had to get away and be alone.”  

With a frown, Felicity tilted her head to one side.  Something about her mother’s words . . . they just felt too pat.  Too emotionless.  It didn’t make sense to her.  

“So you just left?” Felicity asked cautiously.  

“I talked to Rhodey.  And Happy.  I asked them to watch out for Tony, because . . . because I just wasn’t cut out for it,” Pepper said, very carefully maintaining eye contact with the middle of Felicity’s forehead, instead of with her eyes.  “Because I kept hearing my mother’s voice in my head.  Both my mothers.”  

Felicity blinked.  “Both?  I don’t understand.”  

“Because I’ve never talked to you about this,” Pepper said softly, her eyes finally meeting Felicity’s.  “When I was eight, I was taken from my mother and put in foster care.  My foster parents eventually adopted me and gave me their name.”  

“Mom . . .”  Felicity was at a loss for words.  She couldn’t believe her mother had never told her this--but at the same time, she could believe it.  Pepper had always been so much about the present and the future, about not getting bogged down in the past.

Pepper smiled ruefully.  “My biological mother . . . was not a nice woman.  She took a lot out on me.  Telling me that no one would ever need me or want me.  I was very lucky to be taken away from her, and my foster parents, they did a lot to help me realize my mother was wrong.  But . . . my foster mother was older and had only had sons of her own.  She had certain ideas about girls.  That you should be quiet, and put-together, and capable and smart and reliable.  And that if you couldn’t do that, it was best to keep that to yourself and pretend.”  She shook her head.  “She epitomized ‘fake it ‘til you make it’.”  

“So that’s where you get it from,” Felicity said quietly, so much about her mother making sense--or more like she felt like she understood her mother better than she ever had before.  

“That’s where I get it from,” Pepper said.  “But as my therapist has helped me realize, that approach isn’t very healthy.  I didn’t think I could lean on your father, so when I was having troubles, I pulled away from him--when maybe me needing his help would have been what he needed.  At least it would have shifted his perspective.”  

Leaning back, Pepper pulled her hand out of Felicity’s grip and took a deep breath, her eyes glassy.  “I felt like I didn’t have anyone.  Because both you and your dad were hurting so much, and so was I, but I didn’t want to add to your burdens.  Everything just kept piling up on me, until eventually I just had to leave.  I ran away, I admit it, but really, I had been running for months by burying what I felt.”  

Felicity grabbed her mother’s hand--and when that didn’t feel like enough, rose from her chair and slid onto the booth seat next to her mother.  “I get it, Mom.  I--I really get it.”  

Sniffing, Pepper nodded.  “I know.  You do understand it.”  

Now she did, at least.  Now she understood her mother, and understood herself, in a whole new way.  It all made such sense, Felicity felt foolish for not figuring it out before.  In seeing how much both she and her mother worried about things like not disappointing people, not letting anyone down, not allowing anyone to see you break.  Striving for perfection so you wouldn’t have to think about your own problems and pushing away anyone who saw you when you were less than perfect, because it made you too vulnerable, made you too aware of your flaws.  

Pepper reached out and brushed Felicity’s hair back.  “You tried so hard to live up to my example.  And I wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to do that, but . . . but I liked it, too.  You’re so much like Tony--you have such a connection with him.  Sometimes, I felt a bit left out.”  

“You weren’t, Mom.  Never on purpose,” Felicity insisted.  “We--we need you.  Just like you need us.  Our family doesn’t work without you.”  

“I--I know.”  Pepper let out a soft laugh.  “Tony’s been telling me that a lot lately.”  

Her mouth fell open as she did a double-take.  “You--you’ve been talking to Dad?”

“We should figure out what we’re going to order,” Pepper said, picking up her menu, only to gasp when Felicity fwapped her with her own menu.  

“Nuh-uh, you’re not gonna change the subject,” Felicity said, pointing at her mother.  “Besides, we both know what we’re going to have already, because we always have the chef’s salad, hold the bleu cheese and with extra eggs, because protein.”  

“Maybe I want something different--all right, all right!” Pepper said with a laugh as Felicity raised her menu again.  

Pepper grew serious after the light-hearted moment.  “Yes, your father and I have been talking.  It started as a way to share what was happening with you.  But then, we . . . we both started talking about what we had learned in therapy, discussing our days, and . . .”

Her voice trailed off, a soft smile appearing on her face.  Felicity watched, not wanting to disturb this moment.  She had never seen her mother looking so peaceful.  So content.  

That was what Felicity wanted.  Peace and contentment, from being on the right path.  Getting her life back together, fixing things she had broken.  

Walking back towards the man she had walked away from, ready to start over.  

If her parents could start talking again, maybe--maybe not all was lost when it came to her and Oliver.  She just had to try.  Had to reach out to him, take the first step.  It wouldn’t be easy--after all, they didn’t have a reason to talk to each other, like an adult daughter who had fallen apart.  But she had to try.  If she wanted any hope of being happy someday, she had to try.  

Felicity smiled as she realized she knew what she needed to do.   

What Would Pepper Do?  No--no, that wasn’t right.  Pepper was the woman who sought perfection and wore it like a mask.  What would her mother do?  What would the new woman sitting next to her, braver and stronger than Felicity had ever realized she was--what would that woman do?  Because Felicity was trying to start over and be different, but it was so hard and just needed some guidance.  

So it was time for Felicity to try to be like her mother.  To see if she was that brave and that strong.  

“I’m proud of you, Mom.”  

Pepper smiled at Felicity.  “Thank you.  I am so proud of you--how far you’ve come, how hard you’ve worked.”  She tilted her head.  “How you’re going back to Star City.  To Oliver.”  

Swallowing, Felicity looked down.  “I couldn’t do anything else.  I . . . I still love him.”  She lifted her head, meeting Pepper’s gaze.  “And I hurt him a lot.  I might not ever be able to make up for that.  But I have to try.”  

“Yeah,” Pepper said, covering Felicity’s hand with her own.  “You have to try.  And you’ll make amends and reunite with Oliver.  Because I know how much he loves you.  He’ll forgive you, Felicity.”  

There was something about the confidence your mother had in you, Felicity thought.  Something that made you feel like anything was possible.  Even what was very likely impossible.  

“Here’s hoping,” Felicity said before picking up a menu.  “We always order the same thing, but today, I’m feeling like something different.  How about you, Mom?”

Her mother gazed at her, then smiled.  “I’ve always wondered about the steaks at this place.  You wanna join me in trying them out?” 

“Absolutely,” Felicity said with her own smile.

End, Chapter 9

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with this chapter, things are definitely looking up for Felicity. And it all starts when she returns to Star City . . . 
> 
> I've nearly completed writing this fic--I have only the epilogue left to write--so I'll be posting chapters faster to wrap this story up. It's kinda like Netflix releasing all the eps of a show at once: you'll be able to binge-read the rest of the fic!

 

Star City’s international airport managed to be sleek and gleaming but also crowded and grubby at the same time.  As she walked into the terminal, though, Felicity felt a smile grow on her face.  Even with flying cross-country on a commercial flight, thanks to the SI jet needing maintenance, she couldn’t help smiling.

She was home.  

All she had to do at this point was grab her suitcase and look for Tommy or Laurel; one of them should be meeting her to take her to their place.  Probably Tommy, Felicity thought, since Laurel was bound to be at the DA’s office already and Tommy’s mornings were free, thanks to his position as Verdant’s manager.  

It looked like the press hadn’t caught wind of her arrival--they probably weren’t expecting her to have flown commercial.  Hopefully, she would be able to keep up this string of good luck; the Star City press was one of the few things she hadn’t missed about Star City itself.  

Smoothing down her dress, Felicity headed towards a bathroom to quickly freshen up.  Then she followed the signs to baggage claim, along with most of the people crowding the airport.  

As she looked around, her hair brushed against her neck and she rolled her shoulders, still not fully used to her haircut.  She missed her ponytail a little, although her hair wasn’t so short that she couldn’t pull off her signature hairstyle.  Yet right now, her hair touching her neck, the sight of loose waves framing her face whenever she caught her reflection, the missing tightness around her temples from her skimmed-back hair--all of those things combined to remind her she was starting over.  Making a change.  She was coming back to Star City, yes, but she wasn’t picking up her life from where she left off.  

Felicity scanned the crowd, looking for Tommy’s dark hair or Laurel’s long waves.  She didn’t see either of her friends, though.  

What she did see was a pair of blue eyes that she knew very, very well.  

“Oliver?” she asked, feeling shocked.  At least, that was what she was trying to say, though--a dry mouth and a pounding heart made his name come out a bit garbled.  

“Hi, Felicity,” he said, closing the distance between them, sending her heart into overdrive.  “Tommy ran into a delay and asked me to pick you up.”  He paused and added, “He really did--this isn’t some setup on his part.”  

She swallowed, feeling her heart beat even harder.  “Are--are you saying Tommy would try and play matchmaker with us?”  

A flash of a grin crossed Oliver’s face before he shrugged his shoulders.  “I wouldn’t put it past him.  Not Tommy ‘Troublemaker’ Merlyn.  And neither should you, with how long you’ve known him.  Besides, he keeps telling me . . . well.  How are you doing?”  

For a long moment, she gazed at him.  He was dressed in a gray suit and a striped tie, a flag pin on his lapel as his only accessory.  His hair and stubble were well-trimmed and he looked every inch the up-and-coming mayor, until you looked into his eyes.  And then you saw a sadness that was impossible to miss.  

Or maybe she was the only one to see that.  Wanting to see that, so she didn’t have to crush the hopes that were rising inside her.  The hopes that had started bubbling as soon as she saw him, and got even stronger when she noticed how Oliver had directed the conversation away from Tommy’s matchmaking proclivities, which they both knew about and had seen in action.

“I . . . I’m doing pretty good,” Felicity said, hiking the shoulder strap of her carry-on bag.  “I’m glad to be back in Star City.  I’m excited to be starting over.”  

Oliver tilted his head.  “Starting over?”

Nodding, Felicity focused on his face, even though part of her wanted to look away and not face the man she had hurt so badly.  “Yes.  I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.  New habits to replace the old ones.  Like a new haircut to replace the old hairstyle,” she said with what she hoped was a confident laugh.  She lifted her hand to give her hair a bit of a flip, only to suddenly realize she must look like that one emoji, and she quickly dropped her hand.

“I like your haircut,” Oliver said, his eyes lingering on her hair.  “It looks good.”  

“Thank you,” she said, smiling hesitantly at him.  “You look good, too.  Not like a man who’s juggling two full-time jobs.”  

“You sound like Digg,” Oliver said, looking over his shoulder and gesturing.  A tall, strong-looking brunette walked over towards them, something about her making Felicity think of Rob and Digg.  “Felicity, I’d like you to meet Dinah Drake.  She’s a new SCPD recruit and part of my security detail.”  

To Felicity’s surprise, Oliver leaned in towards her.  “And she’s the new Canary,” he said in a low voice.  

She wanted to shiver from having him practically whispering in her ear, but his words were so surprising that she was able to push aside her physical reaction.  “Oh!” Felicity said, holding her hand out.  “It’s so good to meet you, Dinah.”  

“Likewise, Ms. Stark,” Dinah said, firmly shaking Felicity’s hand.  

“Felicity, please,” she corrected with a smile.  

Dinah nodded, a small smile touching her face, before she looked at Oliver.  “Mr. Mayor, we need to get moving.”  

“Yes, thank you, Dinah,” Oliver said, smoothing down his tie.  He looked at Felicity.  “You’ve got a suitcase?”  

Nodding quickly, Felicity pointed at one of the baggage claims.  “That’s where my bag should end up.  It’s big and red with--”  

“A  _ Game of Thrones _ luggage tag.  I remember,” Oliver said, stepping away from her and Dinah as the belt on the baggage claim began moving and suitcases arrived for the waiting crowd.  

It was all Felicity could do not to gulp.  He remembered?  Something as insignificant as her luggage tag?  Would she ever discover a way that Oliver wasn’t sweet and considerate and thoughtful when it came to her?  

“Oh, okay,” she said, more to Oliver’s back than to him, since he was already over at the baggage claim.  Beside her, Dinah shifted and Felicity glanced at the other woman nervously, before she looked back at Oliver.  

“If Oliver needs to get back to City Hall, I can get a cab,” Felicity offered, despite how she had started to look forward to spending more time with Oliver.  Even if it was in the back seat of a car and making semi-awkward small talk, she . . . she just wanted to be around him.  She had missed him more than she had even realized.

“No, that’s all right,” Dinah replied.  She looked at Felicity and grinned, the expression lighting up her face.  “I think he might put an arrow in me otherwise.”  

Felicity opened her mouth, ready to protest.  Because there was no way Oliver would do that--it wasn’t possible he was that excited about having to interact with her, after everything Felicity had done.  Besides, he had just picked her up as a favor to Tommy.  It would be a long, long time before Oliver would be interested in spending time with her--there was a lot they needed to work through first, if he was willing to do so, before they could even be friends again.  

But for some reason, she didn’t point out any of these very valid pieces of information.  She just stood there with her mouth hanging open, until Oliver came over with her suitcase and they had to get moving.  

And the whole time they were driving towards Laurel and Tommy’s apartment, Felicity kept wondering if this was how it began.  If their friends were going to do everything they could to push Oliver and Felicity back together--first the phone call that Thea and Curtis had set up, and now Tommy bailing on picking her up.  Could it be this easy?

XXX

"This is so hard, Caitlin.  Why can’t I just ask Oliver if we could go out to dinner and talk?”

Like an overly emotional teenager, Felicity flung herself down on the couch in Tommy and Laurel’s apartment, the overstuffed cushions violently expelling air as her body made contact.  She shifted around, trying to get comfortable, only to fail.  She pushed herself up and went back to pacing around, her hand holding her phone tightly.  

“You know Oliver has a lot on his plate right now, with the election so close,” Caitlin said.  “You’ve got a lot going on, too, with diving back into work at SI and apartment-hunting.  And also, you’re really scared of saying something wrong, so . . .”  

“Kinda burying the lead there,” Felicity said grumpily before she sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I know you’re right, I just . . . I want to talk to him, you know?  I want to start making up for what I did to him.”

Felicity had been back in Star City for nearly four days now.  And her best friend was right: she had been busy.  She was easing herself back into things at SI, slowly working to rebuild the trust she had damaged with her hasty actions in the spring.  Thanks to co-opting the FS-2 processor--and putting a stop to the Biomechanical Division’s weapons-related work--the SI board wasn’t exactly welcoming her back with open arms.  That meant trying to increase her goodwill with the various departments and restoring her relationships with the company’s workers and administrators.

Her work at SI went hand-in-hand with increasing her public profile.  She had agreed to a few interviews with local newspapers and magazines, and there was already an agreement to photograph her new apartment, once she actually had a new apartment.  Later today, she would go out for another look at Star City’s luxury housing market, searching for a new place that was right for her . . . while also hoping it might be someplace she would share with someone in the future.  

Meanwhile, she couldn’t miss how busy Oliver was.  Whether it was Tommy good-naturedly griping about never seeing his best friend or seeing Oliver every time she turned on the TV or picked up a newspaper, Felicity could tell that Oliver was juggling a lot.  Between the leadup to the election, the one that would hopefully make him Star City’s mayor for good and his work as the Green Arrow, his plate was most definitely full.  

As Caitlin said, both she and Oliver were busy.  But the bigger reason still held true: Felicity was just scared.  

“I never thought I would miss how it was when I first met Oliver,” Felicity said, wandering over towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city.  “But I do.  Because it felt so easy.  Even with discovering he was the Green Arrow and knowing he had kept that from me . . . there was just this connection with Oliver that made everything work.”  

“You were in the honeymoon phase,” Caitlin said.  “You didn’t really know each other.  So it was easier.  Even with putting your foot down when you found out about Oliver being the Green Arrow--you weren’t in too deep yet so you were able to walk away.  Not like when you ended your engagement.”  

There was probably something in what Caitlin was saying, Felicity admitted.  Yet given how she had felt after giving Oliver that ultimatum--that he needed to find another way if he wanted to keep seeing her--she wasn’t so sure she would call that ‘easy’.  Although it had been easier than what she had gone through ever since she broke things off with Oliver, so maybe Caitlin was right.  

That was what was driving her crazy about this whole situation: after two months of therapy and learning to question her emotions and mental processes, it was too easy for her to second-guess whatever she felt.  Once she looked at something from the other side, she started to doubt if she was being fair, if she had an accurate viewpoint, if up was still up and the sky was still blue.  No matter what she did--talked to friends, called her mother, wrote journal entries or meditated--she always ended up back in a place of uncertainty.

“Look, you just have to keep being patient,” her best friend advised.  “I know it’s tough.  I know it sucks.  But until you get over being scared, you’re gonna be stuck in a holding pattern like this.”  

Sighing, Felicity sank down on the couch, curling her legs underneath herself.  “I don’t think I’m scared.  Not really.  I just . . . I don’t know what to think.  What to feel.  It’s like I don’t trust myself when it comes to Oliver.”  

“Why not?”  

Felicity made a face.  “Because I don’t want to hurt him again?  Because I’ve been really unhappy since I broke up with him?  Even in the middle of being miserable about everything, my sadness about Oliver was different.”

“I think once you figure out why you don’t trust yourself, you’ll be able to figure out what to do,” Caitlin said gently.  “I love you, Felicity, and I know you can do this.  Go easy on yourself, okay?”

“Thanks,” Felicity said, hoping she didn’t sound as sullen as she felt.  Because she knew Caitlin meant well, but . . . but right now, that advice wasn’t working.  

Hanging up the phone, Felicity looked at her watch and sighed.  It was time for her to meet the real estate agent, which was the last thing she felt like doing right now.  But she also didn’t want to keep imposing on Laurel and Tommy, so she gathered her bag and slipped on her heels, heading for the door.  

Maybe thinking about something else would help her get out of this funk.  

XXX

“So here in the kitchen, we have brushed stainless steel appliances, very top of the line.  Quartz countertops, built-in wine fridge that holds thirty bottles, and contrasting island, which is a very hot design feature right now.”  

As the agent kept talking, Felicity walked around the apartment, taking it all in.  She had asked the agent to show her something different from super-fancy loft apartments--because she had lived in a place like that with Oliver and she didn’t want those kind of memories.  

So while this apartment was still in a luxury building in downtown Star City, this place was simpler on the surface: a one bedroom with a den that she could  use as a office.  There was a pretty little balcony that would be a nice place for morning coffee.  The apartment was open plan but not in an echoing, modern way; it actually felt cozy--like a home.  Like she might be happy here.  

Yet something was making her hold back from admitting to that.  From saying she loved the apartment and would take it.  

“Why don’t I show you the building’s amenities?  Before you make a decision?” the agent asked, her smile slightly brittle.  

Guilt at making this poor woman’s life more difficult made Felicity put on a smile and nod.  “Yes, please--that would be great.  I like the apartment, I do.  It’s just a tough decision.”  

Nodding, the agent resumed her stream of chatter as she took Felicity around the rooftop deck with views of all of Star City, the fitness room (which Felicity actually did like), the party room, the bike storage and the indoor pool and sauna.  

“So what do you think, Felicity?” the agent asked as they entered the lobby at the end of the tour.  

She opened her mouth to reply, only for someone else to speak.

“Felicity?  What are you doing here?”

Blinking, Felicity turned around to meet the eyes of Thea Queen.  The very serious eyes, with a hint of judgement, of the woman who was supposed to be her sister-in-law.  

“Thea.  Hi,” Felicity said, taking a deep breath.  “I mean, it’s great to see you.  And I’m here because I’m looking at an apartment.  What--what are you doing here?”

“I live here--Roy and me moved in when we came back to Star City,” Thea said cautiously.  “I guess Ollie didn’t tell you that?  Because I know you’ve talked to him.”  

Glancing over her shoulder, Felicity saw that the real estate agent had stepped away, giving the two of them some privacy.  Something that Felicity was grateful for.  Turning back to Thea, she took in the slim young woman.  There had always been an energy about Thea, a spirit and vigor that drew you in.  Oliver always said he thought his sister was the best of the Queens, and while Felicity of course disagreed on principle, she did think Thea was an amazing person.  It had been a pleasure to watch Thea mature from the impulsive, reckless seventeen-year-old she had been, even if it meant seeing Thea go through several heartbreaks.  

There was a peace about Thea now, though.  She didn’t seem like a bird beating her wings against a cage anymore.  Was that from Roy?  From getting away from Star City?  

But even though Thea was definitely more content now, it was clear from her chilly demeanor that she had reservations about Felicity.  Not that Felicity could blame her for that.  

“I have,” Felicity said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  “Oliver told me how happy he was to have you back in Star City.  He mentioned you were working with him in the mayor’s office, too.”  

Thea nodded slowly.  “Yeah, I’m kinda his deputy mayor, until we get someone in to do the job officially.”  She paused, then shook her head.  “Okay, enough beating around the bush.  Why did you come back?”

Through dry lips, Felicity said, “I came back because Star City is my home.  It’s where my job is, where most of my friends are.”  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that this was where Oliver was, too, but she hesitated about revealing that much to Thea, without any sign of how she felt about Felicity’s return.  

“Are you going to try again with Ollie?”

“I . . . are you asking because you want me to stay away from him?” Felicity asked.  

Rolling her eyes, Thea sniped, “Maybe.  I’d know what to say if I had some idea of how you’re feeling.”  

Annoyance flared in Felicity and she opened her mouth, ready to take the bait.  But then she stopped to think, to remember what she had learned in therapy.  She took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head, giving herself a moment so she wouldn’t respond emotionally.    

“I’m sorry for how I treated Oliver, for how I treated everyone before I left,” Felicity said quietly.  “I’m hoping to make amends with the people I hurt.  To explain my actions and ask for their forgiveness.” 

She looked at Thea, wondering if that was enough.  Maybe Thea expected Felicity to pour her heart out.  But as much as she wanted to do that, the person who deserved to know how she felt about Oliver was Oliver.  He deserved to be the first one to know just how sorry she was for what she had done.  

It was clear Thea was weighing that, from the thoughtful expression and narrowed eyes.  Then, like sunlight after a storm, she smiled and hugged Felicity tightly, surprising Felicity so much that it took her a moment to respond.

“That’s really good to hear, Felicity.  And really--we all forgive you,” Thea said quietly.  “We might not have understood what you were doing, but we knew how much you were hurting.”  

Closing her eyes, Felicity sniffed and tried to hold back her tears.  “T-thank you.”  

“Don’t cry,” Thea chided her, pulling back and giving her a smile.  “There’s been a lot of crying going on, but things are good now--aren’t they?”  Thea’s smile faded a little.  “I mean, you’re good, right?”

“They are,” Felicity said, nodding vigorously.  “I mean, I’m getting better.  And I’m happy to be home and starting over.”  

“I noticed,” Thea said, gesturing towards her.  “I like the haircut!  You look very take-no-prisoners.  Even more than before--I know you rocked the ponytail, but it wasn’t nearly kick-ass enough.”  

Felicity felt almost like she had emotional whiplash.  But that was Thea for you: she was like quicksilver, shifting and changing on a dime.  Having her approval and reassurance felt so good, though, after those moments when Felicity had thought she had lost it forever.

“I guess I just remembered how your haircut made you look older,” Felicity said with a smile, noting that Thea’s hair was in the same chin-length bob as before.  

Thea laughed.  “Thanks.  So are you thinking of taking the apartment here?”  

“You wouldn’t mind if I lived in the same building?” 

“Of course not,” Thea replied with a snort.  “It’d be fun.”  

Having Thea’s okay mattered.  And Felicity would be lying to herself if knowing Thea lived in this building didn’t give it an advantage.  Because . . . she might run into Oliver, since he was bound to come by and visit his only sister.

“Well . . . I think I’ll take it,” Felicity said.  

A wide grin appeared on Thea’s face and she hugged Felicity again.  “That’s awesome.  If there’s anything I can help with, let me know.”  

“Of course, Thea,” Felicity said, patting her back.  “Thank you for the warm welcome.”  

“Sure,” Thea said, pulling back.  The lightness in her voice was belied by her thoughtful expression.  She glanced back at the agent, who was now in the middle of a phone call, and looked back at Felicity.  “Are you thinking about rejoining the team?” Thea asked in a low voice.

Was she?  Felicity took a deep breath.  “I don’t know,” she said honestly.  “I . . . I don’t think it depends on just what I want.”  

“Have you talked to Ollie about it?” Thea asked, folding her arms over her chest.  “Because I love Digg, and Curtis is definitely good with computers, but neither of them are you.”  

Felicity pressed her lips together.  It was true that with her skills, she could be valuable to the team.  Yet given her very mixed emotions about the job of being a hero--emotions that she hadn’t had the time to really unpack, let alone resolve--it seemed dangerous to get involved.  

Reading her hesitation, Thea gave Felicity a small smile.  “I know it’s a lot to ask of you.  I guess I’d just feel better if Ollie had you watching his back, too.”  She took a deep breath.  “Because I don’t think I’ll be there much longer.”  

“Really?” Felicity asked in surprise.  She knew how much Thea valued her place on the team, being able to help Oliver and make a difference in Star City as her penance for being Malcolm Merlyn’s daughter--and what he had made her do.  

Thea nodded.  “Yeah . . . it’s something I’m thinking about, talking over with Roy.  I--I don’t know if it’s good for me.”  

At a loss for words, Felicity reached out and rubbed Thea’s arm.  The younger woman smiled.  “So it’s okay if you aren’t interested, Felicity.  I get it, and you definitely don’t have to feel like you need to replace me.”  

“Like I could!” Felicity said, smiling back.  

Laughing a little, Thea shrugged.  “I’m irreplaceable, I know.  Look, I need to get going--the mayor’s office calls--but maybe we could meet up later and talk some more about this?  How do you feel about a late-night, post-patrolling Big Belly?”

“I can’t believe it, but I just realized I haven’t had Big Belly since I left Star City.  You’re on,” Felicity said.  “Meet you there?”  

“Sounds like a plan,” Thea said.  “I’ll send you a text before I get cleaned up and changed.  It shouldn’t be later than midnight.”  

“I don’t know how you do it,” Felicity said, wondering at her energy.  

She shrugged her shoulders again.  “I guess Ollie and me both got that restless, don’t need much sleep gene.  See you later, Felicity--it’s nice that we’re going to be neighbors.”  

“Yeah, it is,” Felicity said, watching Thea walk away.  She wasn’t just saying that--it was true.  It was good to know she had someone close by.  Two someones, really, since Roy was never far from Thea. 

Just being back in Star City seemed to be enough to start dealing with her mistakes.  She had pulled away from so many people, hadn’t reached out when times were bad.  She didn’t want to keep doing that.  Of course it was easier now that she was feeling better to keep in touch, but hopefully this was a new habit that would stick when she had the inevitable setback.  

Mending things with Thea, after already working to rebuild her relationship with Tommy and Laurel, felt like another step towards her eventual goal: having a real conversation with Oliver.  

She had a new apartment, once she spoke with the real estate agent, and she had dinner plans.  Things were definitely looking up.

XXX

Shifting in the booth seat, Felicity took a small sip from her chocolate milkshake and looked out the window of Big Belly Burger.  In the nearly five years she had lived in Star City, she had lost count of the number of times she had done exactly this: sat in a booth and drunk a shake.  

Although this might be the first time she had been stood up.  

Thea had texted an hour ago, saying she would be at Big Belly within thirty minutes.  Felicity had arrived a few minutes before the end of that window and had waited for Thea.  After fifteen minutes, she figured she might as well get a shake.  But now, Felicity was starting to get worried.  Especially since Thea hadn’t replied yet to the text she had sent when she ordered her shake.  

Felicity picked up her phone and sent another text to Thea.   _ Everything okay? _

Her phone trilled with an incoming text no sooner than Felicity had set it down.  Snatching it up, Felicity looked at the message, relieved that it was from Thea.  

Relieved until she read it.

_ ollie’s hurt.  raincheck. _

Three little words that turned her world completely upside down.  Oliver was hurt?

Snatching up her jacket, Felicity yanked it on as she headed for the door, leaving her shake behind.  Her hands trembled as she dug in her purse for her keys, as she tried to get her car started, as she drove towards the lair.  Because a million horrible possibilities were going through her mind.  How bad was it?  Did they need a doctor?  Were they taking Oliver to the hospital?  Was he going to be okay?

It took all her willpower to drive at the speed limit, instead of using the tips she had picked up from the Stark Racing team over the years.  She clenched the steering wheel, her hands at ten and two, and kept her breathing steady and even.  Calm, she needed to be calm, just in case . . . 

The idea she might be facing the worst made her cut the corner when turning onto the street towards Verdant and park crookedly in the parking lot behind the club.  Thankful for her flat shoes, Felicity ran for the back door, the one that provided direct access into the lair, and punched in her code.  

As she had hoped, no one had removed her code from the system, so the door beeped and unlocked for her.  Pulling open the door, Felicity dashed inside and ran down the stairs.  “Is Oliver okay?” she blurted out breathlessly, looking at the backs of the people clustered around one of the metal tables and moving towards them.

The group parted, and Felicity noticed that Curtis and Dinah were among them, along with two young men who were strangers to her.  Yet she didn’t take the time to really look at anyone but Oliver.  

He was shirtless and sitting up, his skin pale but his eyes alert.  A large bandage covered his shoulder and the right side of his chest, hiding the Bratva tattoo just above his heart.  An IV was inserted in his opposite arm, providing blood and saline from the looks of it.  Beside him on the table were bloodied bits of gauze and some other medical instruments.  

“Felicity?” he asked, staring at her.  

She swallowed, unable to look away from him even as she wanted to turn tail and run.  How foolish had she been, rushing over here like this?  Barging in, acting like she was a member of the team when she hadn’t been since well before the broken engagement?  

“I--I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling her face grow hot.  “Thea said you had gotten hurt and--and I was worried.”  

Her words injected a note of tension into the room.  Suddenly no one seemed to know where to look.  Except Oliver, who hadn’t stopped staring at her.  

Digg, thank God, broke the strange mood.  “Okay, people, that’s it for tonight.  Why don’t we all get cleaned up and go home.”  

Like it was an automatic action, everyone except Oliver and Thea responded to Digg’s unspoken but obvious order.  Curtis gave Felicity a small wave and Dinah sent a nod in her direction as they headed towards the locker area, followed by the strangers.  Roy opened his mouth, but at a look from Thea, he just grinned at Felicity and followed the rest of the team.  

Felicity watched as Thea looked at Oliver.  “Are you going to be okay getting home?”

Oliver shook his head a little, but more like he was trying to shake his brain loose and not like he was saying no.  “I’ll get Digg to take me home,” he said, glancing at Digg to confirm.  

“Of course, man.  I’ll just go get changed.”  Digg paused, then walked over to Felicity and hugged her.  “Good to see you, Felicity.”  

Returning his hug, Felicity took a few deep breaths, not only taking in Digg’s scent of sweat and gun oil, but using the hug as a way to collect herself.  To prepare to be alone with Oliver for the first time since . . . 

Since she broke their engagement, she realized.  

Too soon for her to have fully processed that uncomfortable fact, Digg pulled away and went to the locker room.  Thea went last, glancing back at them just before she stepped through the door.

And then it was just her and Oliver.  

For a long moment, she let her gaze rest on the door to the locker room, biting on her lower lip.  Hesitating, silently berating herself for being so impulsive.  For forgetting about being patient and just jumping in like this.  

What was done was done, though.  She was here, and she might as well find out if Oliver was all right.  

Slowly, she swung her head to look at him, meeting his gaze instantly.  “How--how are you?” she asked softly.

“It’s not that bad,” he said.  “I got stabbed in my shoulder and it went through my chest.  It hurt more because of old scar tissue than anything else.  And because then I had to help take out the guy we were going up against, and--I’m fine.”  

Felicity took a few steps towards him.  “Yeah?”  

With a small, momentary smile, he nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m trying to set a good example for the team, so I let Digg give me the full treatment.”  Oliver gestured towards the IV.

A little bubble of laughter escaped her lips.  “You--you’ve always been the worst patient.  In that you don’t ever want to  _ be  _ a patient.”  

He huffed out a chuckle and nodded.  “Yeah.”  

“I’m sorry for just bursting in like this,” Felicity began, but Oliver held up his hand.  

“It’s all right, Felicity.  Your code still works because you’ll always be part of the team, like I told you before.”  

“Still, I didn’t mean to cause any problems for you or the team,” Felicity said.  “I feel like I owe you one.”  

Slowly, Oliver eased himself off the table.  He wrapped his hand around the IV pole and pushed it over towards one of the workstations, picking up the gray hooded sweatshirt that was there.  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly as he pulled on the sweatshirt, his back to her.  

Frowning, Felicity tried to make sense of what she was hearing in his voice.  He sounded tired, of course.  But more than that . . . he sounded defeated.  Lonely.   _ Sad _ .  

Like he truly believed Felicity didn’t owe him anything.  

After four years of dating Oliver, Felicity knew him.  She knew his pet peeves, his hot buttons, his default beliefs.  He had come so far from the man he used to be, so secretive and closed-off, so resigned to having his heart broken because he thought that was what he deserved.  

Yet maybe . . . maybe what had happened between them had brought back to life those feelings.  Could Oliver think she didn’t owe him anything because he believed he was the one at fault?  

That idea was so earth-shattering, Felicity wasn’t able to come up with a response in the time it took Oliver to turn and face her again.  He looked at her for a long moment.  “You don’t owe me anything,” he repeated.  “Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to come and help the team or anything like that, if you’re not ready for that.  The last thing I want to do is get in the way of your recovery.”  

“My . . . my recovery?”

Oliver shuffled his feet a little.  “Thea talked to me a bit.  Said you were getting dinner together tonight.  I’m sorry I got in the way of that.”  

“Yes, we were--but what did you mean, ‘my recovery’?” Felicity asked, not letting him change the subject.  

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling as he ran his hands over his hair and clasped them behind his neck, frowning a little when the IV restricted his movements.  He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her.  “Felicity, you really think I didn’t know you left Star City to get help?  You wouldn’t have come back if you weren’t feeling better.  So whatever you need from me, I’m here.  Just--”  

When he didn’t say anything further, Felicity took a few steps closer to him.  “Just . . . what?”

Her question made him drop his hands from his neck and his eyes from the ceiling, but he was looking anywhere but at her as he spoke.  “Just tell me.  You stopped talking to me, long before we broke up.”

“And I got it--I understood,” he said, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking away again.  “But for my own sake . . . it would be easier on me if you could just say what you want from me.”  

If she broke down in tears, Oliver would probably get the wrong idea.  It wouldn’t help.  And she was utterly petrified of the idea of letting go like that, after such an emotional night.  Because she kept hearing Caitlin’s voice in her head, urging her to be patient.  She heard Doc Samson, advising her to know what her destination was.  

Yet hearing Oliver asking her to talk to him, when he had asked her for nothing for so long . . . that drowned out those other voices.  It drowned out her fears.  Well, most of her fears.  She still didn’t want to make a mistake now.  Even more than that, though--she didn’t want to hurt him.  

Felicity laced her fingers together, holding on tightly.  “I . . . I would like the chance to talk about what happened to me.  To make amends for what I did to you.”  

The words were barely out of her mouth and Oliver was already shaking his head, preparing to dispute her.  Felicity kept talking, not giving him a chance.  

“You might not think I need to do that--I can tell you want to say that I have nothing to apologize for--but that’s what I need from you.  I need you to listen to me, when we have the time to sit down and unpack all of this and I can tell you how sorry I am for what I’ve done.  So we can--so we can move forward,” Felicity finished, her knees trembling as she waited for his reaction.  

She wanted them to move forward together, but--but she just couldn’t ask that of him.  Not yet, not before they had cleared the air.  

“It’s going to be a long conversation.  I don’t want to do it tonight, not while you’re injured and I’m starving,” Felicity asked, stepping even closer to him.  Close enough that she was able to reach out and lightly rest her fingertips against his forearm.  “But . . . soon.  Just wait a bit longer, and then hear me out: that’s what I’d like you to do, if you can.  And until then--we’re going to Big Belly now.”  

There were many times through the years she had surprised him.  Sometimes it was good and sometimes it was bad, but Oliver never failed to show when she had knocked him off his axis.  And this moment was no different.  If anything, his reaction was even more extreme.  His eyes were wide and his mouth was actually hanging open as he stared at her.

It was a kinda out-of-left-field invite, Felicity acknowledged.  But the idea of Oliver going to his place--was he living alone in the loft, since Thea and Roy had their own place now?--and probably not even eating because he was too tired and exhausted and sad?  No.  She was not going to let that happen.  

“We--we’re going to Big Belly?” he asked, his voice high-pitched and quavering.  

“Yes,” Felicity said firmly and emphatically.  “You and me and Digg, once he unhooks you from the IV.  As friends.”  

Although--maybe he had plans?  

Felicity bit her lip, but that wasn’t enough to hold back the babble that poured out.  “I mean--if you didn’t have anything else to do, and I just thought--I was meeting Thea there because I haven’t been there since I got back, and after all, all the swimming I’ve been doing should let me have a jalapeno burger once in a while, not to mention the fries and the chocolate shake.  And you’ve been injured--you need protein to help you heal.  And--and I just would really like to have dinner with you and Digg to catch up.  If you’re feeling okay enough for that, I mean.”  

The longer she talked, the more foolish she felt.  She had talked a lot as a child, but her parents had sent her to classes to help her control her tongue when she was a teenager.  For the most part, she had been able to follow the advice from those classes and keep herself from running off at the mouth, but . . . but not now.  

On the upside, the longer she talked, the less shocked Oliver looked.  In fact, he looked almost amused.  

“Felicity,” he said, making her feel incredibly grateful to him for cutting her off, “I can’t speak for Digg, but I think Big Belly sounds great.”  

“Digg thinks Big Belly is the best thing that’s been said all night.”  

Both of them turned quickly at the sound of Digg’s voice coming from behind them.  He smiled and walked over towards them, his eyes flicking down to Oliver’s arm.  Making Felicity realize she was still touching him.  

“I’ll just get that IV taken care of and we’ll be good to go,” Digg said with a smile.  

“Of course,” Felicity said, taking several steps back.  “I--you know how I am around blood, so I’ll just meet you guys there?  I’ve got my car upstairs.”  

“No, wait--” Oliver said taking a step towards her and then wincing as Digg tugged him back to where he was standing.  “You shouldn’t walk to your car by yourself.  It won’t take long.”  

Distractedly, Digg nodded, his eyes fixed on the needle being pulled out of Oliver’s arm.  “No, it won’t.  And Oliver’s right, it’s not safe.”  

“Well, I’m not gonna look,” Felicity said quickly, turning to look towards the computers.  

Both men chuckled, and it was such a warm, wonderful sound, Felicity didn’t even mind that she knew they were laughing at her.  Because after all, they all knew she could handle herself around blood when necessary.  

She could handle herself around a lot, really.  She might not have shown that before she left Star City, but she was determined to show that now.  Especially if it meant making Oliver’s life better.  Starting with a cheeseburger and a milkshake.

End, Chapter 10


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I've completed writing this fic! So now y'all are gonna get a chapter a day. Just as Felicity and Oliver are getting closer and closer and closer . . . but first, a small road bump in the form of the Star City press. How will Felicity handle some confusing signals from Oliver? Read on!

 

“Thank you for your time.  Vote for Queen!” Felicity said cheerfully, taking back the clipboard from the young man in front of her, checking over his answers on the survey, and then handing the little girl by his side a balloon.

The man nodded and smiled at Felicity before leading his daughter away.  That was the last person from the latest flurry of people to approach the table she was manning, so Felicity took advantage of the break to step back and stretch her arms over her head.  

“Are you feeling okay?  No problems with the implant?” Curtis asked.  

She gave him a smile, knowing his heart was in the right place.  “I’m fine, Curtis, I promise.  I came through my checkup last week with flying colors.  And you’ve seen the data from the implant; you know everything’s working perfectly.”  

“Still, I worry,” he said.  “You’ve been hopping all day.”  

“It’s so great to see such a crowd,” Felicity said, adjusting her Queen for Mayor baseball cap as she looked across Glades Memorial Park.  Tables and booths dotted the grassy area in the center of the park as part of a community fair the Mayor’s Office had established.  With the election less than a week away, the campaign was in its final push to promote Oliver and encourage citizens to vote.  

Curtis let out a soft snort.  “You do realize most of this crowd is here for you, right?”  

“What?” she yelped, staring up at him.  

“You think that baseball cap is hiding who you are?” Curtis asked, tugging on the brim of her hat.  “It’s not, Felicity.  As soon as you got here, the Google Alert I have on you went crazy.  Everyone’s just waiting to see if Oliver shows up and whether you two interact with each other.”

Felicity swallowed.  Why hadn’t she realized this could happen?  The press had been all over her breakup with Oliver, since it had happened so suddenly and seemingly out of the blue.  Admittedly, her memories of the spring were pretty fuzzy, but still, she knew there had been a lot of coverage about the end of their engagement.  Now that she was back in town, it would have been only a matter of time before the press started asking hard questions.  Appearing at this event was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.  

Going up on her tiptoes and craning her neck, Felicity began sweeping her eyes around the lawn.  “Do you see anyone who looks like a reporter?  Or a photographer?”  Reaching down, she grabbed the hooded sweatshirt she had worn this morning and pulled it on.  

“You are gonna die of heatstroke with that on,” Curtis chided.  

“Well, what else can I do to hide?” Felicity replied with a glare.  She pulled the hood over her hat, already starting to sweat as he had predicted.  

“You could just accept that the press are gonna do what the press are gonna do?”

_ Spoken like a civilian _ , Felicity thought.  Even as a former Olympian, Curtis couldn’t understand what it was like to have her kind of profile.  Especially in a place like Star City, which embraced its local celebrities and provided plenty of ways for people to follow every move of said celebrities.  It had been a big change for her, once she had first started dating Oliver, to have the press be in her face, and that hadn’t changed during the intervening years.  She supposed she should feel lucky the paparazzi had kept away during her first week back in Star City.  It looked like the honeymoon was over, though.

Ready to argue her point with Curtis, Felicity opened her mouth, only to suddenly realize the buzz of the surrounding crowd had increased in volume.  Curtis straightened up to his full height and quickly said, “Get ready.”  She only had time to blink before he was saying, “Mayor Queen, hey!”

“Good afternoon!  Thanks for being here . . . ?” Oliver said from behind her, his hand extending into her field of vision to shake Curtis’s outstretched hand.  

Closing her eyes, Felicity took a breath as Curtis introduced himself to Oliver--not that the introduction was necessary, since of course Oliver knew who Curtis was, but only in private.  In the eyes of the public, there was almost no reason for Mayor Oliver Queen to know who Curtis Holt was, even with having Felicity as a connection between them . . . 

Great, now she was rambling in her head.  Giving herself a quick shake, Felicity turned to face Oliver.  His eyes widened slightly, then one corner of his mouth turned up.  “Hi, Felicity.”  

It wasn’t like this was the first time she had seen him since that night she had stormed into the lair after finding out he was injured.  No, there had been dinner at Big Belly, a few quick interactions when they both ended up at Jitters at the same time or in the lobby of Felicity’s new apartment building.  Yet she couldn’t seem to help the butterflies she felt in her stomach.  

“Hi, Oliver,” she said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.  Which was probably because of the sweatshirt.  At least, that’s what she hoped Oliver would think.

“What’s with the mummy routine?” Oliver asked, stepping a bit closer towards her.  

Felicity knew it was her imagination, but she could almost hear camera shutters snapping, like a cloud of cicadas had just settled over the park’s trees.  

“She didn’t want the press to know she was here.”  

“Curtis!” she said, glaring at him.  

Oliver let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.  “C’mon, Felicity, we both know there’s no hiding from paparazzi.  And you must be roasting in that hoodie.  Because I am in this suit.”  He gestured to his suit jacket.  

Sighing, Felicity nodded and pushed the hood down, then unzipped the sweatshirt and took it off.  “It’s not like I wanted to hide.  I just didn’t want to upstage you with the election so close.”  

“I appreciate that,” Oliver said quietly, nodding to her.  “But it’s okay.  Really.  It’s great to see you out here.”  

Now that the sweatshirt was off, her cheeks shouldn’t still be flushed.  But they were--she could feel it.  “You’re welcome.  Not that you need to thank me.  Which you didn’t do in so many words, but I could tell it was there.  But I think you’re the best candidate--I  _ know  _ you’re the best candidate--to help Star City.  So that’s why I’m here today.”  

The babbling just didn’t seem to be stopping.  She just couldn’t seem to hold it back anymore.  Yet . . . she kind of liked it.  Because it felt honest.  Like who she was supposed to be.  

Which apparently was an embarrassing mess.  Although Oliver didn’t seem to think so.  Not from the little smile on his face or his sparkling eyes.  

A smile she couldn’t help returning, with her own version of sparkling eyes, she guessed.  But she didn’t care.  Not when it meant showing Oliver how she really felt.  

XXX

Felicity ducked her head, picking up her coffee and moving past the rest of the crowd surrounding the counter in Jitters.  She walked over to the milk and sugar station, keeping her head down and trying to ignore the whispers.

“Is that her?”

“It’s all about her money.”

“She broke his heart--anyone can see that.”  

With everything that was going on, she definitely deserved an extra sugar.  She added it to her coffee, stirring vigorously and then stepping back to avoid splattering her dress.  That was the last thing she needed today: to go to a press conference with coffee stains on her clothes.

SI was breaking ground on an expansion and renovation of their manufacturing facility in the Glades.  Which meant a lot of silly photos of herself and the rest of the SI powers-that-be wearing hard hats and carrying shovels, while the press took pictures and shouted questions.  

Questions that were bound to be especially difficult today, because Oliver was going to be there, too--he would be making remarks after her.  Whether those questions would be more about any supposed advantages that SI might have received from the city, or more about her and Oliver, Felicity didn’t know.  But either way, she was on edge just when she needed not to be.  

And trying to ask herself What Would Pepper Do? wasn’t really helping her like it used to.  Now that she knew it was just a mask that wouldn’t solve any of her problems.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity covered her coffee with a lid and carried it out of the shop, resolutely keeping her eyes away from the display of newspapers and gossip magazines.  Publications that were still making “news” out of her interactions with Oliver this past weekend at the community fair.  

Rob was waiting for her, the door of the car already open, a dissatisfied look on his face.  He had wanted to get her coffee for her, but Felicity had told him she could handle it.  Now she was wishing she had gone along with him.  But she was grateful for him being ready to go.  

“Thank you,” she said as she approached the car, meaning it with all her heart.

He gave her a small smile.  “Hop in and I’ll get you over to the factory.”  

Nodding, Felicity slid into the backseat and buckled her seat belt.  Then she took her coffee out of the cupholder and wrapped both hands around it, taking comfort from its warmth as she ran through a few deep-breathing exercises.  

There was nothing wrong with being nervous.  She could almost hear the words in her head, being spoken in Doc Samson’s deep voice.  This was a stressful situation, one she could only do so much preparation for.  As long as she presented her family’s company in a good light and was polite yet firm, she would be okay.  She could do that, even with this new babbling issue.  Besides, the Board was starting to thaw towards her, thanks to a few good write-ups for SI in the business press, so they would have her back.  She hoped so, at least. 

And there was Oliver, too. 

“You look very nice today, Miss Stark.”  

Rob’s words made her eyes pop open, meeting his in the rear view mirror.  “Oh!  Thank you, Rob.”  

“You’re welcome,” he replied.  

Felicity frowned a little.  “You don’t normally say that, Rob.”  

“I know.  But I thought you could use a little reassurance.”  

That made her chuckle.  “Why, do I look like that much of a wreck?”

“Not at all,” he said, glancing back at her again.  “But given the current circumstances . . . it’s not surprising that some of what you’re feeling is showing on your face.”  

“I wonder if that’s good or not,” Felicity mused as she looked out the window.  “If the press will smell blood in the water.”

There was silence for a few moments, but Felicity had the feeling that Rob still had something to say.  She stayed quiet as he navigated them through a snarl in the traffic, and then he spoke.  

“I think it is, Miss Stark.  If you don’t mind me saying so, I feel like I’m finally getting to know you, after working for you nearly five years.”  

That made Felicity lean back against the leather seat.  Had she really been that reserved, that closed-off?  It was something to think about.  Something she wanted to consider more.  But they were pulling up to the factory site, so there wasn’t time right now.  

The minute she stepped out of the car, it was a madhouse.  Over a dozen reporters were waiting, along with an equal number of photographers and camera operators.  Once she was in view, they began shouting questions at her.

“Felicity, did Stark Industries receive special incentives due to your relationship with the mayor?”

“Are you and Oliver Queen reuniting, Miss Stark?”

“Any word on the Avengers, Felicity?”

“Ms. Stark, who are you supporting in the mayoral election?”

“Who runs Star City?  The mayor or Stark Industries?”

Holding on to Rob’s arm, Felicity began moving through the crowd.  “I will be taking questions after the groundbreaking,” she kept saying over and over, doing her best to stay calm amidst the flashing lights and the cameras in her face.  

When she reached the dais, she took a deep breath to collect herself, before greeting the members of the SI board who were here today.  Halfway through, the press suddenly turned away from her and dashed towards a shiny black car, out of which Oliver stepped.  She was equal parts grateful to have the focus off her for a few moments and worried about how Oliver was going to take the questions thrown at him, if they were anything like what she got.

Of course, Oliver just smiled and waved and moved through the press of reporters, acting like he didn’t hear them at all.  But when he reached them, he immediately walked to her.  His hand was twitching by his side as he approached her.  “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.

“First Rob, now you,” Felicity said, trying to smile.  “I’m fine, really.  Just a bit nervous over all of this.”  She waved a hand around, encompassing the hard hats and the podium.  

Oliver nodded slowly before giving her a small smile.  “You’re gonna be great.  Are we ready to go?”  

“Yep,” Felicity said, since the sooner they started, the sooner this would be over.  She signaled the representative from the PR Department, who called everyone to order and spoke briefly to the crowd of SI employees, local residents, and the press.  

“And now, with a few words, Felicity Stark!”

The applause was polite bordering on reserved--like the crowd wasn’t sure what to expect but wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.  She didn’t quite understand the mood in the air, which made her grip the podium tightly as she smiled at everyone.  Then she took a breath and looked down at the notecards for her prepared remarks, left on the podium by the PR rep.

“Thank you.  Today is an exciting day for Stark Industries: we’re breaking ground on the expansion and renovation of the manufacturing facility behind me.  Once this project is completed in six months, we’ll be able to put into mass production an innovative, life-changing device: a biostimulant implant that is projected to help paralyzed individuals regain some degree of mobility.”  

Felicity paused, looking at the dry, boring speech in front of her, before looking up to meet the eyes of the crowd.  She scanned their faces and slowly turned the notecards face-down.

“You might remember that six months ago, I was in a wheelchair after a shooting.  It’s thanks to a prototype of the Stark Industries implant that I’m able to walk now.”  

The crowd began to murmur and everyone seemed to press closer--although maybe that was her imagination.  Felicity swallowed and kept talking.  

“Ever since I recovered, I’ve been dedicated to making this implant widely available.  This hasn’t been a process without risk and great cost, but if just one person, other than me, is able to walk again thanks to this implant, then it’s worth the money and time that Stark Industries has invested,” Felicity said, picturing Rhodey in her mind’s eye, at the head of a column of people who were able to move again after receiving the implant. 

“I want to thank the Board of Stark Industries for their support to this project, and to the incredibly talented employees in the Biomechanical Division for their tireless work on this project.  In addition, Star City has been very good to Stark Industries, which is why I’m so pleased that Mayor Oliver Queen is here today as well.”  

That caused a few flashbulbs to go off, and Felicity looked over at Oliver.  Her quick glance was thwarted when she saw the expression on his face.  There was a softness and warmth in his eyes that she thought she might never see again.  It made her feel like she was melting, turning into a puddle of goo in front of a hundred people.  

Swallowing, she turned back to the crowd.  “Thank you for coming here today, as we begin a new chapter for Stark Industries.  A-and now, Mr. Mayor?”

The crowd let out a much more enthusiastic burst of applause as Oliver stepped up to the podium.  Felicity gladly stepped back, allowing him to work the crowd while she collected herself.  Yet even though she felt shaken to her core, there was also a sense of pride.  She had winged a speech, something she never did, without losing control or descending into babble.  Although she knew the real challenge was still to come, when the reporters would be allowed to ask questions, Felicity couldn’t help smiling.  

At least one of her challenges today had been met and won.

The time to savor her small victory would come later, though, because she really wanted to listen to Oliver’s speech.  Which was, of course, good: it was filled with utter sincerity and his characteristic self-deprecation.  It helped her relax even more.

“Thank you for your attention.  Ms. Stark and I will now accept any questions,” Oliver concluded after the last round of applause.  He looked back towards her and Felicity joined him at the podium, fighting the urge to reach out and take his hand, or lean against his side, or anything to make physical contact with him.  Instead, she clasped her hands together and kept a foot of warm Star City air between them.  

Hands in the audience had immediately gone up at Oliver’s announcement, and Felicity took a breath as Oliver called on the first reporter.  

The first few questions were fairly easy: queries about the implant’s cost, whether SI would be hiring more employees and the like.  But then, a brunette woman lifted her hand in the air.  

“Susan Williams with News 52.  Mr. Mayor, as the Green Arrow, you stated you opposed the now-withdrawn Sokovia Accords.”  

Regardless of the space between them, Felicity knew Oliver had tensed at the statement.  And he wasn’t the only one.  

“That’s correct, Ms. Williams,” Oliver said.  “That fact was well-recorded by you and the rest of the Star City press.”  

A ripple went through the crowd, and Susan Williams smirked slightly, despite Oliver’s clear dismissal.  “There were rumors that you ended your engagement with Ms. Stark because her father was in support of the Accords.  Would you or Ms. Stark care to comment?”  

Now it was like a bomb had gone off in the crowd.  Photographers clicked their camera shutters and reporters lifted their phones or recorders higher, ready to capture the response.  

But Felicity had no response.  This was the first she had heard of such a rumor, and it was enough to make her wish she had some mutant ability to vanish into thin air.  Because how had a rumor like that even gotten started?  It was completely false!

She looked at Oliver and swallowed at the expression on his face.  He looked like he was ready to put an arrow into that reporter.  And Felicity didn’t think it was an exaggeration or hyperbole on her part--Oliver truly seemed furious.

“I don’t know where or who you’re getting your information from, Ms. Williams, but you couldn't be farther from the truth.  My former relationship with Ms. Stark is the last thing we should be talking about today, since we’re announcing a great improvement to the Glades and Star City.  But perhaps your network is more interested in keeping citizens from learning anything--”

Oh, this was really bad.  Oliver couldn’t do this--he needed to stop.  Reaching out, Felicity touched Oliver’s arm, rubbing her fingers oh-so-slightly against his tense bicep.

His head whipped around to look at her, his brows drawn together and his mouth a straight line of anger.  Felicity knew that look made most people tremble--but she wasn’t most people.

Silently, she told him to back off and keep his temper from getting the better of him.  She knew he had gotten the message when after he sighed, his forehead smoothing out.  Some of the tension drained out of him, something she could feel through her fingers and see happening before her.  He took a deep breath before facing the crowd again.

Oliver began speaking, his voice a bit quieter than before.  “This rumor implies that I hold my opinion in higher esteem than Felicity’s.  While I still strongly believe the Accords were a noble yet flawed document, I would never pretend that I know more than Felicity.  But the Sokovia Accords did not play a role in our breakup.”

He paused, then said firmly, “I was lucky to have Felicity in my life and I’m grateful that we’ve remained friends after we ended our engagement.  Because her intelligence and knowledge, her courage and strength, helps make me a better man.  She is an inspiration to me and many others, and I’m excited to see what she does next to help Star City.”

Letting his words sink in, Oliver clearly looked around the crowd, his gaze lingering on Susan Williams.  Even in profile, Felicity could see the barely-hidden disdain on his face.  Then he turned back to Felicity.  “Do you have anything to add?  I don’t want to speak for you.”

It was all Felicity could do to keep her face from showing everything she was thinking and feeling--and she was pretty sure she was failing.  Because what could she add to such an amazing speech, one that full of beautiful compliments and praise for her?  When she had been the one to let the Accords come between them, contrary to Oliver’s statement?  She knew why he hadn’t been truthful with the press on that--but she didn’t understand why he had pretty much returned her to her former place in the heart of Star City.  Why he said such wonderful things about her when it was him who deserved such flattery.  

No, not flattery--that implied what she thought about him wasn’t true.  But it was true--it was all true.  Because right now, she was just so blown away by his patience and kindness and respect for her--and how he showed them to the press and all of Star City.  He was a true hero, whether he wore a business suit or a green mask.    

Swallowing, Felicity looked out at the crowd and approached the microphone.  “I--I don’t want this to suddenly turn into a mutual admiration society, although it’s going to be hard.  Because--because I hold Oliver in a very high regard--I always have.  Whether he’s protecting Star City as the Green Arrow or as the interim mayor--soon to be the mayor in every sense, I believe--he is . . . a true testament of how much one person can make a difference.”

Ugh, she sounded so stiff and pompous.  Why couldn't she capture her feelings in words with any degree of eloquence?  What was Oliver thinking of her lackluster response?

She turned her head enough to look at Oliver, feeling her breath catch at his face.  His eyes were lowered and and his hands were clasped behind his back, making him look shy and even a little uncomfortable.  He always seemed so flustered when people complimented him, because he was too good at seeing the clouds instead of the sunshine--in finding a way to counter any compliment.  She wanted to make him feel good with her words and she wasn’t doing enough.

“The world needs more people like Oliver Queen,” she said, unable to look away from him.  

A gentle hand on her shoulder made Felicity glance back, seeing the PR rep.  “We need to get back on the groundbreaking,” the young rep whispered.

Right.  The groundbreaking.  Felicity nodded and looked out at the crowd.  “Are there any further questions about SI’s plans?  Otherwise, we’ll get to the groundbreaking and the photos.”

Thankfully, the press seemed to have gotten what they came for and there were no more questions.  Felicity felt like the universe was giving her a break for once, because she could pose for silly photos on autopilot.  Which meant she could divert nearly all her brainpower to analyzing what had just happened.  As well as trying to forgive herself for not doing more to match Oliver’s admission.

XXX

With a quiet sigh, Felicity let herself into her apartment, immediately kicking off her heels and wiggling her toes.  Then she walked into the kitchen, moving around the boxes still waiting to be unpacked even though she had been here over a week.  Her destination?  The wine fridge.

After pouring herself a glass, she grabbed a bag of popcorn and carried both glass and bag to the living room.  Settling onto her new red velvet couch, Felicity curled up, took a slow sip from her wine, and let her head fall back.

What a day.

When the press conference and groundbreaking concluded, she had a full schedule of meetings and presentations at SI, so she hadn’t been able to dwell on what had happened.  Yet it wasn’t like Felicity stopped thinking about Oliver’s words, her own weak response, and how to go from here.

Listening to Oliver, before her guilt and worry had kicked in, she had been filled with emotion.  Positive, happy emotion, like she hadn’t felt in a really long time.

And if she could only use one word to describe that emotion?  It would be love.

Felicity sighed again and took a swig from her wine before opening the bag of popcorn.  She knew this wasn’t exactly a healthy dinner, but she felt like too much of a mess at the moment.  She loved Oliver.  She always had, she always would, but she didn’t know what to do about it.  Not when she couldn’t find a way to actually talk to Oliver.  Talk the way they needed, so they could figure out what their future might be.  Whether they  _ had  _ a future together.

An insistent ringing made her lift her head up with a groan.  She hadn’t gotten a chance to install D.A.V.I.S. yet, so if she wanted to know who was calling--and to make the loud disrupting noise stop--she had to get up and answer the phone.

Putting aside her wine and popcorn, Felicity got up and dragged herself to the handset in the kitchen.  “Hello?”

“Felicity?” her mother asked.  “What’s wrong?”

“Mom,” Felicity said, rubbing a hand over her forehead.  “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Because of how you sound,” Pepper replied, sounding concerned.  “There was the groundbreaking today, right?”

Felicity bent down and opened the wine fridge, pulling out a bottle.  If she was going to have this conversation, she wanted her wine to be closer than in the kitchen.

“It was,” she said, moving back to the couch.  “It went fine.  The actual groundbreaking, I mean.  I wore the stupid hard hat and everything.”

“Okay . . .” Pepper said slowly.

Blowing out a breath, Felicity put her feet up on the coffee table.  “Oliver was there.”

“Oh.”  

She let out a quiet huff of resigned laughter.  “Yeah.  Oh.”

“I thought things were going well between you two, though?” Pepper asked.  “You said you had seen him and he was nice.”

“That’s the problem, Mom,” Felicity told her, the frustration leeching out.  “He’s so  _ nice _ .  Kind and thoughtful and generous.  I don’t understand how he can be so good to me after what I did to him.  I basically started a huge fight with him over nothing and then walked out on him.  Why doesn’t he hate me?”

“Because he loves you, Felicity,” her mother said quietly.  “The kind of love that lets him forgive you for almost anything.”

That made her frown.  “It’s so unfair.  To him, I mean.  He doesn’t deserve that.  And I don’t want to treat him like that.” 

“Felicity, honey, it’s not anything you do or don’t do--he loves you and that’s that.”  

“I just want to find a way to talk to him,” Felicity said grumpily.  “So I can start making up for my mistakes and just . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she struggled to gather her thoughts.  The idea that Oliver loved her enough to forgive her--it was a powerful, humbling thought.  Because it meant the longer she put off talking to him, the longer she tried to just let that conversation happen instead of making it happen?  She was hurting him.  Keeping him in a painful limbo that he couldn't control.  All because she had told him she would tell him when she was ready, yet again asking too much of him.

“I’m scared, Mom,” she whispered.  “What if . . . what if I mess this up again?”

“What if you don’t?”

The gentleness of her mother’s words made Felicity swallow around the lump in her throat.

“There’s always the chance I could,” Felicity said weakly.

Pepper sighed softly.  “I understand what you’re feeling, honey.  I picked up and put down the phone so many times before I called your dad.  It all finally came down to I wanted to talk to him more than anything else.  That was all that mattered: hearing his voice, telling him I was sorry.”

She nodded slowly, thinking that over.  It was getting harder and harder to keep back the words she wanted to say.  Maybe that was why she couldn’t seem to express herself to Oliver--if she started speaking honestly about one topic, everything would come out.  Her fears had been paralyzing her enough for her to stay silent.  But if she let those fears keep holding her back, she would be stuck in this horrible place forever.  

“I . . . I have so much I want to talk to him about,” Felicity said.  “And today, he made this speech--a reporter said that he broke up with me because of the Accords--and I just . . . I listened to what he said and I was swamped by my feelings, but then I felt so nervous and I had to get back to work and . . . it just seemed better to stay quiet.  But it isn’t better.”

“No, it isn’t.  It’s good that you’re figuring that out, honey.  Soon, you’ll be able to talk to Oliver,” Pepper said.

Blowing out a breath, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders ease, Felicity nodded.  “Yeah.”  

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Felicity said, draining the last of her wine and standing up.  She tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear before carrying her glass and the bottle of wine back into the kitchen.  

She didn’t really need wine after all.  She just needed a good conversation with her mother and then a good dinner, which she would start preparing as soon as she was finished with this call.

“How did that reporter think the Accords had something to do with your breakup?” Pepper asked, the curiosity clear in her voice.

Shrugging, Felicity tucked the bottle away.  “I don’t know.  It’s not that it isn’t true, in a way.  Finding out that Oliver was opposing the Accords started our last fight.”

“Still, it’s an odd accusation,” Pepper said thoughtfully.  “I hope it doesn’t negatively affect Oliver before the election.”

“I don’t think it will--not with what he said today,” Felicity replied, feeling a fluttering in her stomach as she once again remembered his words.  “Besides, he’s got such a big lead on his closest challenger.”

“That’s good.  I’m happy to hear that--and even happier that you’re starting to get past your fears, Felicity.”  

The belief in Pepper’s voice made Felicity smile a little.  “Slow but steady.  How are you doing, Mom?”

As her mother began bringing her up to date on her life, Felicity began putting together a real dinner.  And while she cooked and talked, she also started making plans.

XXX

Walking as confidently as she could, Felicity moved through the lobby of City Hall.  Normally, she would have called the mayor’s office to schedule an appointment with Oliver, yet it seemed inappropriate in this case.  After all, making an appointment so you could ask the mayor out--that didn’t feel kosher.  But if Oliver was available now . . . 

Her stomach was tight with nerves, but Felicity felt strong.  She was taking control, choosing to acknowledge her fears but not letting them hold her hostage.  Yes, there were many ways that this could go wrong.  Oliver could have decided he wanted a fresh start, he could no longer be interested in her romantically, he could only see her as a friend now.  Even if he was willing to hear her out and give her a second chance, Felicity knew they might not make it this time.

None of that mattered as much as the possibilities, though.  Ever since her phone call with her mother two nights ago, Felicity had found herself daydreaming.  Imagining what it could be like to be with Oliver again.  Not just in a sexy way, although she certainly had spun a few fantasies in that direction.  But most of her Oliver-related thoughts revolved around the little things.  How he grumbled about her eating habits while making her an egg-white scramble.  The way he smiled at her when she said something silly.  The warmth of his hand when he held hers.

Felicity knew what she wanted.  And she had never held back from doing whatever was necessary to get what she wanted.

Still, she slowed a little as she approached the mayor’s office, straightening her dress and running a hand over her hair.  Then with a deep breath, she pushed open the glass door and stepped into the office.

A well-groomed young man sat at the desk, talking on the phone as it kept ringing with other incoming calls.  Felicity stood back, waiting until he was free, while craning her neck to look towards Oliver’s private office for any sign of him.

“May I help you?”

“Oh, yes,” Felicity said, not realizing the phone had stopped ringing.  “I’m sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if the mayor was free for a few minutes.  My name is Felicity Stark.”

The young man smiled.  “Yes, I know who you are. I’m sorry, Miss Stark, but Mayor Queen is out of the office today.  He’s in conference with the City Council.”

“Oh,” Felicity said, her spirits sinking.

“He might be back around six, if they wrap up early, although he does have some campaign work tonight, too.  If you want to leave me your number, though, I’ll make sure he gets your message,” the young man said in a competent manner.

“No--no, that’s all right,” she said quickly.  “Thank you, though.”

He nodded.  “You’re welcome.  Have a good day, Miss Stark.”

Felicity gave him a weak smile and turned around, leaving slowly.  If she was the type to believe in signs, she would take Oliver’s absence as an indication that the universe was against her talking to Oliver now.  That it was telling her to wait.  The election was happening next week, after all, and Oliver was clearly incredibly busy even with being in the lead.  Even if she was able to ask him to dinner, the chances were high that he wouldn’t be available for a while.

But facing this roadblock, Felicity felt her courage rise.  Starting over with Oliver was bound to be hard--what was one more obstacle to face?  And really, Oliver being busy with the election might make him more willing to have dinner--to relax and get away from his campaign for a little while.

Especially since she really, really, really hoped he still cared about her like he used to.

As she walked through the lobby, she passed through a video screen showing CNN.  She drew up short when she saw her father.

TONY STARK SPEAKS ABOUT SOKOVIA ACCORDS, the news ticker said at the bottom of the screen.  Felicity scrambled for her phone, launching the CNN app.  It seemed to take forever, but finally she got the live video stream playing.

“ . . . the Sokovia Accords didn’t just affect the Avengers, even though they were written for us.  That’s why they failed, in spite of having good intentions.  They swept up other heroes, like Star City’s Green Arrow.  Now, even though the guy used to be engaged to my daughter, I know that Oliver Queen is good people.  He’s looking to make Star City a better place, which I’m good with, since we’ve got a big factory there and my daughter lives there.  So that’s why I’m endorsing him for mayor of Star City.  How I feel about SI is how Oliver feels about Star City, so everyone there should keep that in mind when they head to the polls.  All right?  Peace.”  

He walked off, away from the podium, and the news anchor took over.  But Felicity didn’t pay any attention, too shocked to focus on anything but the thoughts going through her head.  

She couldn’t believe her father had done this.  It would appear that he really did respect Oliver, like he had told her before.  More than respected him--approved of him.  How else to explain this endorsement?  Such glowing support wasn’t something her father would do just to make her happy--he had to mean it to do something like this.

Would miracles never cease?  Now  _ this _ \--this was a sign from the universe.  A sign that it was time for her to put her money where her mouth was, just like her dad had done.

Lifting her chin, Felicity dialed Oliver’s cell phone.  She didn’t expect to reach him and in fact, she got his voicemail.  Which meant it was time to pour her heart into this message.

“Hi, Oliver.  It’s Felicity.  I don’t know if you’ve heard the news about my father’s endorsement, but I didn’t know, either.  But I think it’s wonderful, and I’m going to make my own statement today, just as soon as I make some calls.  I know you’re busy, but . . . I’d really like to have dinner with you.  We have some things to talk about.  I hope we do, at least.  Give me a call when you get a chance.  Bye.”

And when she said goodbye, she meant  _ I love you _ .

End, Chapter 11

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's got one last small bump in her road to happiness . . . will she let it throw her off course?

 

Giving her hair a final touch-up, Felicity took a deep breath and looked at Rob.  “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”  

“Of course, Ms. Stark,” her driver said, smiling back at her from the rear view mirror.  “Have a good evening.”  

“Thanks, Rob,” she said before stepping out of the car, a smile fixed in place for the photographers and camera operators.  

Oliver had been elected mayor of Star City in a sweeping landslide, one that gave him quite a bit of political capital.  He had already been comfortably in the lead before her father had endorsed him; with Tony Stark’s approval, Oliver had cruised to victory.  

Her smile reflected her true feelings, because Felicity was so happy for Oliver.  He had already accomplished some great things as the interim mayor--now that he was officially mayor, he could really get to work.  At least, that was what she was assuming.  Oliver had been so busy over the last week, he had barely had time to return her phone call--and even then, it had been a brief call.  He had sounded so exhausted, Felicity hadn’t had the heart to keep him from his bed.  

He had worked so hard to get here, and he had so many challenges in front of him.  But for tonight, everyone was celebrating, and Felicity couldn’t wait to share in this moment with Oliver.  Well, Oliver and probably a thousand people with connections to his campaign or the Mayor’s Office.

As she walked the red carpet, Felicity took the time to nod and smile to the various members of the press, stopping to pose for pictures when asked.  Tonight was about supporting Oliver.  But the longer it took to get inside, the more impatient she became.  She really wanted to see him.  

Finally, she reached the entrance of the hotel where Oliver’s victory party was being held and she stepped inside, blinking her eyes a little and seeing spots from the all the flashbulbs.  

“Felicity!”  

Turning, she smiled even wider at the sight of Tommy and Laurel.  “Hi!” she said, kissing Tommy’s cheek and giving Laurel a hug.  “Did you just get here, too?”

“We did--we came in the side door to avoid the mob outside,” Tommy said.  He ran his eyes over her and let out a whistle.  “Looking good, Stark.”  

“You think so?” she asked, smoothing her hands over her red dress.  It was fairly simple, other than the zipper that wound from her stomach, around her back, and then curved past her hip and towards the front hem of the dress.  

“Definitely--you look amazing,” Laurel answered for Tommy.  “It’s great to see you here tonight, Felicity.”  

She fidgeted a little with her clutch.  “Well, I’m excited.  Oliver’s going to do amazing things for Star City.”  

Laurel reached out and wrapped her fingers around Felicity’s hand.  “You don’t have to be nervous.  Ollie’s bound to be in a great mood.”

“Oh, he is,” Tommy said with a grin.  “I was with him earlier and I haven’t seen him like this for a long time.  Maybe not since before the island.”  

“Wow,” Felicity said as her stomach settled.  She liked hearing that Oliver was enjoying the celebration--and she couldn’t wait to see it for herself.  “We better get in there before it wears off.”  

Amidst laughter and some friendly chatter, the three of them walked into the massive ballroom of the Starling Grand Hotel.  The gold drapes and sparkling mirrors were less noticeable tonight, with the wall-to-wall campaign materials.  A huge banner hung at the front of the room, featuring Oliver’s face and his campaign slogan, Star City: United.  Posters of Oliver in various Star City locations, as well as the faces of several residents, decorated the walls.  Crowding the dance floor were hundreds of people, mingling and laughing as they sipped champagne and hors d’oeuvres.  

Felicity went up on her toes.  “Do you see Oliver anywhere?”

“Look for the largest crowd and you’ll probably find him.  We should probably wait for him to find us,” Laurel said practically.  

Even though it was good advice, waiting was the last thing she wanted to do.  She wanted to talk to Oliver now.  But when she finally spotted Oliver, she saw that Laurel was absolutely right: he was surrounded by people waiting to talk to him.  And Felicity knew she couldn’t take him away from his constituents.  

“Seems like you’re right,” Felicity said, before snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.  “Do you mind if I play third wheel?”

“Of course not!” Laurel said with a smile.  “We’ve missed having you around since you’ve moved.  How’s your new place working out?”

For the next hour, the name of the game was small talk.  Felicity enjoyed her time with Tommy and Laurel, and then she saw Curtis and Paul across the room and walked over to speak with them for a few minutes.  She paced her champagne drinking, making sure to eat and drink water, so she could keep her wits about her.  

That was important, since she was hoping to connect with Oliver tonight.  Chat a little, offer him her congratulations, maybe even bring up the idea of getting dinner some night soon.  A dinner where hopefully, she could put her cards on the table.  

The music that had been playing all evening was turned down, making Felicity look around.  She straightened up when she saw Oliver at the front of the ballroom, standing at a podium bristling with microphones.  Her heart flipped when she saw the wide, beaming smile on Oliver’s face.  He looked so young and happy, in a way she hadn’t ever really seen.  But now she knew what her goal was: to put a smile like that on Oliver’s face as often as she could.

The room filled with applause and Oliver grinned wider, lifting his hands and making the ‘quiet down’ gesture.  The crowd eventually settled down and Oliver looked around the room.  

“Before I took office in May, there were a lot of doubts about me.  How could a former playboy and college dropout lead a city like this, with the problems we were facing?  Even if you acknowledged that as the Green Arrow, I knew something about keeping Star City safe, that didn’t mean I would be able to do that as Mayor.  But yesterday, the people of Star City gave me a vote of confidence.  They said, ‘Yes, you have started to unite us.  Yes, you have started to make things better.  Yes, we want you to keep working for us.’”  

Oliver paused, looking down, and Felicity clasped her hands together tightly as she waited with breathless anticipation.  

“I am honored by the trust shown in me by Star City,” Oliver said, raising his head.  “I will do everything I can to make sure that trust is justified.  And I won’t be doing that alone.  It comes down to all the people working in City Hall, the City Council, and the people of this city, helping me to fulfill my promises.  Together--united--we will not fail this city.  Thank you very much.”  

If the applause had been loud and enthusiastic before, now it was riotous.  And Felicity was clapping so hard, her hands were stinging.  

Without conscious thought, her feet moved towards where Oliver was, surrounded by people as he shook hands, smiled, and acknowledged their congratulations.  She waited, doing her best to be patient, until she felt like she might scream.  At that very moment, a hole opened up and she was able to slip into the empty space, only an arm’s length from Oliver.  

When he turned and saw her, Felicity was positive that his smile got brighter.  That his eyes had a special spark in them.  

“Felicity,” he said, reaching out and lightly holding her elbow as he leaned in towards her.  “I’m so happy you came tonight,” he said, close to her ear so she could hear him over the music and the people surrounding them.  

His voice, so low and soft and intimate, made her tingle down to her toes.  His fingers felt so warm against her skin, it made her remember all the times he had touched her and her skin had felt like it was on fire.  

“Congratulations,” she said, unable to stop herself from grasping his forearm.  “I’m so proud of you, Oliver.”  

He pulled back to look at her, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  “Thank you.”  

Glancing around, she knew their conversation could be overheard by several people.  But she had already waited so long.  

“I know you’re busy, but I was hoping we could have dinner sometime?” she asked, stretching up to get close to him.  

The crowd was jostling around them and the music was pumping, but as soon as the words left her mouth, all she saw was Oliver and the rest of the world fell away.  So she saw when his eyes widened slightly and his lips parted.  

“Dinner?” he repeated, staring down at her.  

She nodded.  “Yes.  Dinner.  So we could talk.”  

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding.  “I . . . I’d like that, yes,” he said, sounding strangely breathless.  

Not that she wasn’t feeling a lack of air, herself.  Like they were in some perfect bubble of a moment and she didn’t want to leave it.  

“Great,” she said, her fingers clutching his arm a little tighter.  “I’ll call you to set up a time and day?”

“It’s a date,” he said, before he dropped his eyes.  She saw him press his lips together and she knew what he was thinking.  That he had gone too far in calling it a date.  He probably felt like he was pressuring her, so now he was mentally chastising himself for his words.  

But the thing was, he was right.  And Felicity wasn’t going to let him feel like he was all alone in this.

“It’s a date,” she echoed, smiling up at him.

For a long moment, he just looked at her, that adorable confused expression on his face.  Then, as he grasped what she said, his face smoothed and his smile grew.  And it was like the sun coming out after a week of rain.  She felt so warm and happy, because everything was right in the world when Oliver was smiling.  

“Okay,”  he said, still smiling at her.  “I--I’ll wait for your call.”  

That made her laugh.  “You’re not supposed to tell me that.”  

Oliver chuckled softly and shrugged.  “Did I sound too much like a teenager there?”

“A little,” she said, feeling her face stretch with her smile.  “But it’s cute.  And if it helps, I’ll be calling you tomorrow.”  

“It does,” he said.  Before he could say anything else, someone stepped up and tapped Oliver on the shoulder.  

“I’ll let you get back to celebrating,” Felicity said quickly.  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”  

He nodded and squeezed her elbow.  “Have a good evening, Felicity.”  

She gave him a quick smile and turned away, moving through the crowd.  

It was probably her imagination that she could feel his eyes on her back.  But she still looked back over her shoulder to see if he was, and felt her heart leap into her throat when her eyes connected with his.  When Oliver gave her a quick wink, Felicity couldn’t help laughing.  

This whole situation was awkward and messy, but . . . but they were on the right path, she thought.  And that was what mattered most.

XXX

Felicity carefully wrapped her fingers around her wine glass, trying to control their trembling.  Even though her phone was right beside her plate, with the volume turned all the way up, she used the fingers on her other hand to wake the screen, to see if she had gotten a text.  But there was nothing.  Nothing to explain why Oliver was a half hour late.  

Sitting alone at a table in a dim, candlelight nook, she felt so self-conscious.  Like she was on display.  Which didn’t do anything to help her nerves.  Tonight mattered so much.  Tonight was the start of their new beginning--at least she hoped so.  How this dinner went would affect everything that came afterwards.  Yet she didn’t want to ignore how they had started the first time.  That was why she had picked an Italian restaurant; their first real dinner date had been Italian, but she had purposefully hadn’t picked the same restaurant.  It was the best of the new and the old.  But until Oliver arrived, she wouldn’t know if he felt the same way.

Taking a small, careful sip of her wine, Felicity replaced her glass on the table and then went back to mauling one of the complimentary breadsticks, turning it into tiny little pellets of glutinous dough.  She breathed slowly and carefully, trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions.  After all, Oliver was both the mayor and the Green Arrow; it was quite likely some emergency had come up and he hadn’t been able to contact her.  

That was the rational conclusion.  The one she should put the most weight behind.  Not the paranoid delusions her brain was conjuring.  

_ He had second thoughts after you babbled through that phone call to set up this dinner.  He’s so much better off without you. _

_ He was so excited about tonight that he wasn’t paying attention and got hit by a car on the way here and now he’s in a hospital bed. _

_ He’s dead.  Oliver is dead, and if you hadn’t dragged your feet, he would have at least died knowing that you still love him, that you’ll always love him, that you were going to apologize and ask him if he could ever forgive you. _

It was the last thought that truly scared her, the one she kept dwelling on, because the idea that Oliver might never know how much she cared, how sorry she was for splitting them up . . . 

She could feel tears threatening to fall, but she didn’t want to have to leave the table in order to fix her makeup.  Instead, she picked up her phone and, after a few tries, sent a group text to Caitlin, Laurel and her mother.  

_ Oliver’s late and I’m incredibly nervous. _

Something about seeing the words typed out in black and white made the knot in her chest loosen infinitesimally.  She was acknowledging her fears and emotions, reaching out to the people who loved her.  Sharing her feelings instead of trying to carry them on her own was scary, but it helped so much--more than she could have ever realized before therapy and everything she had learned over the last three months.

Within a few moments, messages came through. 

_ He’s not late because he wants to be _ , was the response from Laurel.   _ Tommy said Oliver called him, he was so nervous and excited _ .

Caitlin added,  _ I checked his mayoral schedule & it was clear after 5.  Maybe green-related lateness?  Check w/ rest of the team _ .

_ Have you contacted him?  Try that, too.  And remember, sometimes it takes more than one try to make things work _ , Pepper gently counseled.  

It was all good advice.  Advice she needed to hear.  Advice that she could use to at least relieve some of her worries.  

_ Thanks, guys.  I couldn’t sleep last night, I was so excited, and then the nerves started setting in just before dinner.  Going to text Oliver now _ , she responded to her loved ones, and did just that.

Crafting this text took even more tries, but she finally came up with something she thought sounded non-accusatory and non-judgmental.   _ We were meeting at seven, right?  Is something going on?  Please let me know _ .  

Her thumb was hovering over the send button when she heard Oliver’s voice.  “Felicity?”

She was so startled, her knee bumped against the table leg, making the silverware jump and nearly knocking over her wine glass.  “Oliver?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, taking his seat across from her.  “I got held up at the office, and then once I was home and rushing to change clothes, there was something else and . . . I should have called.  I’m sorry.”  

“That--that’s okay,” Felicity said faintly, slowly putting her phone down.  “I was just about to text you.  I thought I had the wrong time.”  

“No, it’s my fault,” he said, smoothing a hand down his front, over his tie.  It was a dark blue one she didn’t recognize, one that coordinated with his paler blue dress shirt, along with the gray suit that she had always liked.  Her favorite suit.  Had he picked it because he remembered how much she liked it?  

Shifting in her chair, Felicity plucked at the skirt of her gray dress, an old one of hers with orange colorblocking at the waist.  Oliver had once told her he loved her in that dress, and she had wanted a stab of confidence, from wearing a dress she knew made her look good.  But since he was late, he hadn’t really been able to see what she was wearing.  Would it matter what she was wearing?  Maybe she should have picked out something new . . . 

Her mind always seemed to go in circles like this when she was exhausted.  Over the last few months, as she had discovered the benefits of eight hours of sleep a night, she had forgotten how it felt when she was this tired.  Two nights of much-less-than-eight-hours had helped to trigger all these swirling paranoid assumptions.  

“It’s not your fault,” she said, smiling at Oliver and trying to push those crazy thoughts to the back of her mind.  “And you’re here now.  That’s what matters.”  

“Well, thank you,” he said, giving her a small, tense smile in return.  “You look great.”  

Felicity hid her blush in her wineglass.  “Thank you.  How are you doing?”

He shrugged and took a breadstick, breaking it into small pieces.  “I’m okay,” he replied before eating one of the pieces, making her blink.  Because Oliver almost never ate bread.

At her look, his smile became a bit freer and a little sheepish.  “I didn’t get lunch today.”  

“I hope you see the irony of that, with how many times you complained about me skipping meals,” Felicity said, aiming for gentle teasing but not really sure she was hitting the mark.  

“It’s different,” Oliver said.  “I didn’t want to skip lunch, it just . . . happened.  Especially since I was so determined to finish my scheduled events on time today.”  He paused and frowned.  “I guess since I was late, I should have just had lunch, and remembered what I always used to say to you.”  

Talking about meal habits wasn’t exactly how she had hoped to start this conversation, but it was as good a place as any.  But since she had been waiting a half hour for Oliver to show up, and breadsticks weren’t enough for either of them to feel satisfied, she let him off the hook.

“Why don’t we order an appetizer, and you get a drink, to take the edge off first?”

“Great,” Oliver said, eating another piece of bread and then picking up the menu.  Felicity did the same, although given the time she had been waiting, she already had the menu memorized.  “How about the prosciutto-wrapped pear slices?”

Ugh.  She hated prosciutto, especially when it was wrapped around fruit.  “Um . . . I don’t like proscuitto.”

Oliver looked up at her.  “Oh.  I didn’t know that.  Um . . . the seafood salad--no, you’re allergic to shellfish.”  

“Yeah, I still am.  Why don’t we go with the mushroom bruschetta?” she said, lifting her wine glass.  “I know you don’t eat bread, but it’ll be filling.”  

For a moment, he hesitated, and Felicity felt an unexpected spark of anger.  He was the one who had kept her waiting, and now he was being picky about the appetizer?  But then, Oliver nodded and closed the menu.  

“That works for me,” he said, shifting in his chair and looking around.  “Who’s our server?”

Felicity spotted their waiter and gestured for him to approach.  “Hi again,” she said.  She held her wine glass out to the waiter.  “Another Cabernet for me, and we’d like to split the mushroom bruschetta.” 

“I’ll take a Scotch,” Oliver said to the waiter, who nodded and went towards the bar.  Oliver turned his head to look at her.  “Are you okay?”  

“Why do you ask?” she replied, arching an eyebrow at him.

He frowned a little, then lifted his napkin and draped it across his lap.  “No reason.  I mean, you just seem . . . touchy.” 

“Touchy?” she asked, the word escaping her lips before she could hold back.  “Why wouldn’t I be touchy, when I thought I was getting stood up?”  

“I apologized for being late,” Oliver said, leaning towards her.  “I’m sorry, I should have called you, but--”

“Why didn’t you?”

From his reaction, her question had come out of left field.  But it shouldn’t have felt like that to him.  He had to realize she had noticed how he had skirted around giving her a reason for his lateness.  Or at least, a reason for why he hadn’t called.  And if they were going to start over, they couldn’t do it with Oliver hiding things from her, keeping secrets or not letting her in on what was happening with him.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion at her question, then he said slowly, “I told you, I was running late and I was rushing to get here--”

“But you also said something else happened, like that was the reason you didn’t call,” Felicity said, picking up the wine glass their waiter had just set down on the table, along with Oliver’s Scotch.  She took a healthy swallow and glared at him.  “So what is this ‘something else’?”

“Felicity,” he said, glancing around.  “Is this really what you want to talk about?”

“Yes, it is,” she hissed.  “Because once again, you’re not talking to me.  You’re keeping me in the dark, and I don’t even know why, and I want to know why.  This is why we broke up--and we can’t move forward if you keep doing this, Oliver.”  

Oliver’s jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed.  “So the only reason we broke up is because of me, is that what you’re saying?”

No.  No no no no no.  She didn’t mean that--this wasn’t why they had broken up.  She  _ knew  _ it wasn’t.  Even before the two months of therapy, the hours of introspection and long talks with her friends and family, she knew Oliver’s tendency to hold back wasn’t the reason they broke up--at least, it was really far down on the list of reasons.  But damn it, how could he be late to this dinner?  And then not be honest with her on top of it?

“Wait, no,” Oliver continued.  “The reason  _ you  _ broke up with  _ me _ , the reason you just walked away, it’s all because of me, right?”

She flinched, his words like a knife.  It was all slipping away--all of her hopes and dreams for a reconciliation, for them to start again--all of it was useless.  Because they were too broken to make this work.  

“I--It’s not--” she whispered, trying to find her anger.  Anger was a shield; it would keep her from being vulnerable, from showing Oliver everything she was feeling, hiding how much he was hurting her--

_ Oh _ .

This must be what an epiphany felt like.  

“It’s not what?” Oliver snapped, sounding frustrated and impatient and hurt.  So hurt.  

But she knew how to fix it.

“It’s not--it wasn’t your fault,” Felicity said, feeling the tears well in her eyes but not caring how they were going to destroy her makeup job.  Not caring that she was crying in public, in the middle of a restaurant, and that it was going to make the press go nuts.  

Oliver opened his mouth but paused, staring at her.  “Felicity?”

Sniffing, she tried to smile.  “Sorry--I’m sorry.  I just--I did the same thing as before.  I found out something you had done, and instead of letting you tell me in your own time, instead of trusting that you had a reason to hold back, I just--accused you.  Like you had done something wrong.  Instead of showing you that I was hurt.”

Her vision was blurring a little from her tears, but she could see Oliver taking in what she had said.  How his shoulders had slumped and his eyes dropped from hers.  She looked down, trying to compose herself.  Because how could she have been so blind?  Why hadn’t she ever tried to determine why she had left Oliver like she had?  That was the kind of preparation she had needed to do for this dinner, so she could have started by apologizing.  

Felicity let go of the wine glass she had been clutching and drew her hand back, getting ready to . . . Clasp her hands together?  Leave?  She didn’t know.  But before she could decide, she felt warm, calloused, familiar fingers wrap around hers.  

Looking up quickly, she felt her breath catch at the expression on Oliver’s face.  

“I’m sorry, too,” he said softly.  “I--I just let you walk out, because I thought I deserved it.  I was always waiting for you to wise up, because you’re so smart, but . . . you never did.  Not until you were asking me about your dad and the Accords, and I knew you weren’t up for that kind of conversation, but I didn’t fight for you.  I just let you go, even though I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do.”  

“What?” she asked, staring at him.  “You--after all that time--you thought you didn’t deserve me?”

He looked down at their hands and swallowed.  “With what I’ve done . . . the person--no, the monster,” he corrected, making Felicity want to protest.  But she pressed her lips together and let him talk.  

“The monster I used to be--I thought it meant I didn’t deserve happiness.  I thought it was always just a matter of time until I’d lose you, because you made me so happy,” Oliver said, each word carefully chosen, like he was looking for the best way to tell her.  He valued words so much, he always wanted to pick the best ones, Felicity thought.  

“It’s not--it doesn’t work like that, Oliver,” she said, gazing at him.  Maybe seeing him for the first time, all the way down into the parts of himself he didn’t like talking about, the parts he thought were ugly.  But it was those parts that made her love him all the more.  

“I--I never thought you didn’t deserve me.”  She huffed out a small laugh.  “Actually, I thought I didn’t deserve you.”  

The disbelieving, confused, amazed expression on Oliver’s face would have made her laugh if they weren’t in the middle of the most honest, scary conversation they had ever had.  “What?” he said, blinking at her.  

“God, Oliver,” she breathed out.  “You were always so good to me--so willing to accept me, to let me be the one in charge.  And after my accident, you were . . . you were the only thing keeping me from giving up.  From losing it.  You were so amazing and I felt like I was failing at everything.  I wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t brave enough.  Not like you.”

“Felicity, you were so brave,” Oliver said, leaning close to her.  “Don’t ever think differently.”  

“I didn’t feel that way.  I thought I had to act all determined and strong, because--because if I told anyone how scared I really was, I thought they wouldn’t understand,” Felicity said, using her free hand to wipe at the tears leaking from her eyes.  “Which is just stupid, because you would have understood.”

He gave her a small smile.  “Even if I didn’t understand exactly what you were going through, I would have tried.  I did try--with everything I have.”  

“Exactly,” she said, reaching out to hold his hand in both of hers.  “So--please, Oliver.  If you can--if you can forgive me for leaving, forgive yourself for letting me leave.  I’m not saying right this instant--that probably won’t happen in either case, really.  But--but I think we need to forgive ourselves as well as each other.  And talk more.  Like this.”  

“You . . . you talk differently now,” Oliver said.  “You’re less polished.  More . . . real.”  

That made Felicity smile.  Because that was Oliver: he took the way she had lost her filter and begun to babble all the time as something good.  

“As much as I love my mother, and want to be like her, I’ve kinda given up on being her.  No more ‘What Would Pepper Do?’,” Felicity confessed.  

Oliver held her eyes and gave her a small, utterly devastating smile.  But even more damaging to her equilibrium was what he said.  “Good.  Because as much as I like your mother, I always thought you should ask yourself, ‘What Would Felicity Do?’ and then do just that.”

A throat being cleared fortunately saved her from really showing Oliver how she could babble.  Or doing something even crazier, like climbing on top of the table to kiss him.  Thankfully, Oliver was able to talk to their waiter, accepting their appetizer and then ordering dinner for them both.  She managed to nod at his silent question about whether she was okay with his entree choices, but right now, she didn’t want to talk.  She just wanted to look at Oliver and think about how much she loved him.

The earthy mushrooms and the crispy bread combined into a mouth-watering aroma, and Felicity found that she was suddenly ravenous.  As soon as the waiter stepped away, she grabbed one of the pieces of bruschetta and took a healthy bite.  Oliver looked at her and grinned.  “You’ve got the right idea.”  

She grinned back, keeping her lips pressed together, and shrugged.  Once she had chewed and swallowed, she said, “Emotional upheaval and catharsis makes me hungry.”  

He let out a quiet laugh, something fuller and richer than his normal chuckle, and helped himself.  For a few moments, they were silent save for the sounds of chewing and swallowing.  But it was perhaps the most comfortable silence she had ever shared with Oliver.  By the time their appetizer was finished, and Felicity had flagged down their waiter to switch to water, things felt . . . better.  Calmer.  More like she had hoped tonight would go.  

Which was why, when Oliver straightened up in his chair after a large swallow of Scotch, Felicity felt a tingle of worry.  

“The reason I was late--” he began to say, but Felicity held up her hand.  

“No, you don’t have to tell me,” she said quickly.  “Not unless you’re really ready to talk about it.  I trust you.”  

His ridiculously long eyelashes swept his cheeks as he blinked at her, then Oliver visibly swallowed.  “No--no, I--I want to tell you,” he stuttered.  “I mean, trust--it’s a two-way street.”

Felicity took a deep breath and nodded.  “That’s true.  Um, okay.  If you want to tell me, the floor is yours.”  

“Okay,” he repeated, squaring his shoulders.  Then he reached out and took her hand.  “I was late because when I got home--you remember that reporter, Susan Williams?  At the groundbreaking?”

It shouldn’t be possible to feel so many emotions all at once, just at the sound of someone’s name.  Because as soon as Oliver said ‘Susan Williams’, Felicity was ready to snarl, cower and frown, all at once.  

“Yes?” she said hesitantly.  

“Of course you do,” Oliver said.  “Well . . . I came home and found her in my apartment.  She had broken in.”

“What?!?”  

Nearby diners turned their heads towards them at Felicity’s exclamation.  She blushed and Oliver held up a hand, indicating that everything was all right.  She winced and said, “Sorry.  But--still.  What?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little.  “I was pretty shocked.  She said she was there, um--”  His cheeks turned red and he swallowed before he continued.  “Apparently, she’s been after a scoop on us, ever since we broke up.  That’s why she asked that question at the groundbreaking, trying to see how we would react, hoping she could spin it into some kind of story.  And the reason she broke into my apartment was . . . she was looking for evidence that you had been there.  If you had spent the night since you moved back to town.”  

_ Oh my God _ .  She knew the Star City press could be the worst, but Felicity would have never thought any reporter would stoop to such a low!  

“I can’t believe it.”  It wasn’t often that Felicity came up against anything that really shook her world view, but this certainly did.  Because wow, that was stupidly gutsy.  Like in a design-a-metal-suit-and-set-an-altitude-record-for-your-first-test-flight kind of way.

“Believe it,” Oliver said with a shake of his head.  “She had no shame about it, either.  Admitted it without any fear.  That’s crazy, right?”

“Maybe her station is willing to cover her bail if she got a big enough scoop--that’s why you were late, right?  You were dealing with having her arrested?”

When Oliver didn’t say anything, she tilted her head to one side.  “You didn’t call the police?”

He gave her a tight little smile and shook his head.  “Oliver,” she groaned.  “Why not?”

“Because . . .” he said, before sighing.  “Because when she told me why she was there, she said some things about you that were . . . well, it was like stuff out of that  _ Mean Girls _ movie Thea made me watch once.  And I lost my temper a little and kinda . . . threatened her.”  

It was only because of the reaction the first time she yelped that Felicity was able to hold back again.  “Threatened her?” she whispered instead.

Nodding, he leaned in.  “I might have used the Green Arrow voice on her.  So you realize how bad it would look if she reported that.”  

“But you threatened her in the course of her breaking into your apartment,” Felicity said, rubbing her forehead.  “Oliver . . .”

“I know,” he said quickly.  “That’s what I told her: if she tried to even hint about the Green Arrow threatening innocent civilians, let alone tried to say anything about me and you, I’d make sure how she gets her information would be revealed.”

“Hmm,” she said slowly.  “A mutual assured destruction kind of thing?  Okay.”  

Oliver’s face lightened.  “Okay?”

“I mean, it’s not a bad idea,” Felicity told him.  “And I can imagine it took some time to convince her of that.  Thus . . . you were late.”  

“Exactly,” he said, the relief audible.

Felicity gave him a small smile, feeling her cheeks flush as he smiled back at her.  God, she had missed his smiles.  Especially the ones directed at her.  

With more of that impeccable waiter timing, their server appeared with their entrees, placing a plate of lasagna in front of her and some kind of chicken and peas over spaghetti in front of Oliver.  Before she had a chance to dive into her layers of cheesy goodness, Oliver cleared his throat.  

“This might be presumptuous, but . . . could we do this again?  Maybe . . . maybe in a way that’s more like a date?”

Lowering her fork, she looked at him.  “You mean a way with less crying and less jumping to conclusions?  By which I mean me not doing that.”  

Instead of laughing like she had hoped, Oliver gazed at her.  “And with less self-doubt and resignation?  And I mean me not doing that.”  

What was it about this man?  He had broken through her walls like water, creating little fissures until he was filling her up with his love and support.  And now that she was finally seeing she didn’t need those walls after all, she was so ready to let them down and be herself with him.  

She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.  

“Yes,” Felicity said with a smile.

End, Chapter 12

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are good for Felicity right now . . . and they're going to get better in this chapter. Isn't that good to hear? :-)

 

“Hi, hello, sorry I’m late!” Felicity said, dashing up to the table in one of Star City’s best restaurants where two of her best friends were sitting.  She quickly took a seat, smiling at them.

“Someone’s certainly floating on air,” Dr. Caitlin Snow remarked with a smile as Felicity picked up her menu.  She paused and looked at Caitlin with wide eyes, then whipped her head towards Laurel Lance-Merlyn, who was not-so-silently laughing.

“You look like you’re ready to burst into song,” Laurel said, once she had recovered.

Felicity wrinkled her nose.  “Believe me, no one wants me to start singing.  No, no, no, no, no.”  

That made Laurel start laughing again and Caitlin joined in.  Felicity shrugged her shoulders and joined in with the laughter.  “Like either of you two are accomplished chanteuses,” she countered.

“Oh, no,” Caitlin said.  “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”  

“Me, neither.  But it doesn’t change the fact that you seem really, really happy, Felicity,” Laurel said, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

“Because I am,” Felicity replied with a smile, feeling her cheeks go pink.  

It had been two weeks since that night with Oliver, the dinner that had started so disastrously and had ended so promisingly.  In the days that followed, they had been in near-constant communication, between quick lunches, occasional dinners at one of their apartments, texting all day and phone calls most nights.  And she was ridiculously happy, because talking to Oliver so much and really telling him everything?  It was amazing.  He listened so well, knowing when to let her babble or when she needed a gentle “Felicity” or the touch of his hand against hers to bring her back to the point.  

There was something about dating Oliver that made her remember the early days of their relationship while reflecting on how much better things were now.  Of course back then, there had been all the excitement of falling for Oliver, getting to know who he was beyond her fuzzy teenage memories of him.  But now, she felt like she was really learning who he was, just like he was learning who she was.  They had agreed on a policy of no secrets, no lies, while also respecting each other’s boundaries and hot buttons.  

They were developing new habits, new ways of interacting with each other.  Ones that felt healthy and durable.  Like they were building a new relationship that would last for decades.  

All they needed to do was add in the physical component.  Which would happen, Felicity knew.  There was no way either of them would be able to wait much longer, yet it was nice to take things slow.  They hadn’t even kissed yet, but just holding Oliver’s hand was enough to make her feel as giddy as she had after epic make-outs.  

“I’m really happy, you guys.  Which is why I’m thrilled you’re both here, so I can share how I’m feeling,” Felicity said, nodding to the waiter with a smile as he handed her a mimosa.  

“We’re just as happy for you,” Caitlin said.  “Ever since the baby came, Ronnie and I have been go-go-go.  It’s great to come to Star City and remember what it was like before Ronnie, Jr.  Not that I would trade him for a billion dollars and my own lab.”  

Felicity beamed at Caitlin.  “Then let’s have mimosas all around!”  

Caitlin pouted.  “I wish I could, but since I’m still nursing, I’m being careful with the alcohol.”  

“That just leaves more for Laurel and me, then,” Felicity remarked cheerfully.  

“Actually . . .” Laurel said, smiling at them a bit nervously.  “You’ll have to have my mimosas, too, Felicity.”  

There was a moment of silence, and then both Felicity and Caitlin started talking at once. 

“You’re pregnant?”

“Oh my gosh!”  

Laurel beamed, her nerves apparently fading as quickly as they appeared--which was just what Felicity would expect when it came to the brunette lawyer.  “I just finished my first trimester, so it seems safe to talk about it.  The baby’s due in February.”  

“Maybe you’ll have a Valentine’s Day baby!” Caitlin said, waiting for her turn to hug Laurel.  

“Oh, I’m so happy for you both,” Felicity whispered to Laurel, hugging her tightly.  

Returning her hug, Laurel said, “I don’t know how Tommy’s been able to hold it in.  He’s over the moon.”  

“Of course he is!” Felicity said, pulling back and taking her seat.  “This is great news.  Does Oliver know yet?”

“Yeah, Tommy told him a few days ago,” Laurel said, then snickered.  “Everything just comes back to Oliver for you now, doesn’t it?”

She pouted.  “You make that sound like a bad thing.  Which I suppose it could be on the surface, but . . . it’s not.”  

“Laurel’s just teasing  you,” Caitlin said.  “We know how hard you had to work to get here--so we know how much you deserve all the happiness you have and then some.”  

Smiling, Felicity nodded.  “Yeah, that’s what I think, too.  So, Laurel, we need to start making baby shower plans.  Let’s have a round of celebratory Eggs Benedicts--since mimosas are out--and start talking.”

That prompted laughter from everyone, even Felicity, as they settled in.  

XXX

“Really, you should have seen Laurel--she was glowing,” Felicity told Oliver as she helped him clear the table after dinner.  “I’ve never seen her so relaxed.”  

“Funny, I was just thinking that Tommy had never looked so nervous, except maybe when he was working up the nerve to propose,” Oliver said, giving Felicity a lazy smile.  “I mean, he’s excited, but he’s definitely already freaking out.”  

Grinning at him, Felicity slipped on the apron she had given Oliver as a housewarming gift, but that she always seemed to use when she visited.  Given how she still couldn’t cook, on the nights she came over to his apartment, Oliver would cook and she would take care of the dishes.  She started filling the sink and said, “So it’s like they’ve switched places, really.”

Oliver leaned against the counter, swirling the wine he had been nursing all evening.  “A little bit.”  He smiled softly at her.  “How did the rest of your day go?”  

“It was good--great, actually,” Felicity said, beginning to wash the dishes.  “After we had brunch, we did some shopping.  That’s when I got my new shoes.”  

She held her foot out so he could see them, angling the shoe to show off the glitter wrapping around the toe and vamp of the purple heel.  

“You never wear flats,” Oliver said, before frowning.  “Wait.  I meant those are very pretty.  Very . . . sparkly.”  

Giggling softly, she nudged him with her hip.  “I get what you mean.  You’re right--I don’t wear flats, unless I’m wearing running shoes or flip-flops or something.”

“Why not?”

Felicity tilted her head as she thought that over.  “I think it started with wanting to be like my mom.  Even though she was already tall, she always wore high heels--I guess to feel powerful?  And then, when it became clear I got my height from my dad and not my mom, I started wearing heels for the same reason.  To feel powerful.  Like I was in charge, instead of a kid pretending to be the boss.” 

“And . . . and that didn’t change after the implant?  You didn’t consider that it might be better to wear flats?”  

If she hadn’t been looking at him, she might have felt annoyed by him questioning something so intrinsic to her.  Yet when she saw his slightly-hunched shoulders, and how he was moving his thumb up and down the stem of his wine glass, she knew he was nervous about this question--but that he wanted to ask, out of his concern for her.    

Taking her hands out of the soapy water, Felicity wiped them on her apron, then slid her arms around his waist.  “It’s okay, Oliver.  We can talk about this.  We should talk about this.”  

As gently as if she was a butterfly, Oliver smoothed his hand over her back.  “I don’t like to remind you.”

“I appreciate that, but . . .”

He nodded and gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s not like you’ve forgotten?”

“Exactly,” Felicity said, gazing up at him.  “So, no.  Once I started walking again, I felt like I needed the heels.  To feel like me.  To remind myself I was strong and powerful, no matter what.”  

“Because you are,” he said softly.  

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” she said, smiling at him. 

Oliver smiled back and rubbed her shoulders.  “How about I dry while you wash?  Then we can have dessert.  I picked up a cheesecake.”  

“Perfect,” Felicity said, instinctively going up on her toes and kissing him.  The second her lips made contact with his, her eyes widened as she realized what she had done.  But then Oliver’s hands clutched her shoulders and his eyes closed, and Felicity knew it was too late to pull away.  And she didn’t want to pull away, not with how good this felt.  

For a long, breathtaking moment, they kissed.  And then, just as suddenly, Oliver drew back, leaving her with pursed lips and a confused mind.  

Shouldn’t their second first kiss have felt at least a little awkward?  Bumping noses or some other kind of adjustment?  But it had been just right.  Warm and soft and full of emotion.  

Blinking, she gazed up at him, then swallowed.  “I--I kissed you.”  

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit short of breath.  “I kissed you back.”  

She wondered if it was obvious she wanted to kiss him again.  Or if she just looked really embarrassed, with how her face was flushing and her eyes didn’t seem to know where to look.  

Pulling back, she plunged her hands into the dishwater, grabbing a plate and scrubbing it.  She knew Oliver was it for her, but she didn’t want to rush things.  She didn’t want them to use the physical as a way to ignore issues in their relationship.  That was one of their solutions before and it hadn’t worked.  It was important to her that they find new ways to face challenges together before they complicated everything with sex.  Because she knew once they took that step, it would be so easy to get lost in Oliver.  

After a few moments, Oliver moved to stand by her side, carefully wiping each dish and piece of silverware.  She was acutely aware of him: his height, the heat of his body, the movements of his hands out of the corner of her eye.  Trying to focus, she redoubled her efforts on cleaning the plate, only for it to slip through her fingers and fall into the sink with a muted clatter.  Thankfully, the water eased its impact so it didn’t break, but that didn’t change how awkward she felt.  

“We . . . we should talk about the kiss.”  

Of course Oliver would be brave enough to broach the subject.  Taking a deep breath, Felicity looked up at Oliver.  She braced herself for his expression, but his face was blank, giving her no insight into how he was feeling.  “Yeah.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.  Not that I haven’t thought about kissing you recently--that’s not it at all.  I do want to kiss you.  I just . . .”

When she didn’t say anything, Oliver said softly, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since our dinner.  But . . . I think what we’re doing now is important.  We’re doing this better.  I don’t want to mess this up by skipping ahead.”  

“Me, neither,” Felicity replied, meaning it with all her heart, feeling the tension fade as they talked this out--although the embarrassment hadn’t really gone away.  “I’m not saying we went too fast last time, I just think we let ourselves get distracted with the physical elements of our relationship.”  

He nodded.  “Because that part has always worked for us.”  

Her cheeks felt hot as she nodded. 

“So . . . as good as that was, maybe wait a bit to repeat it?” Oliver asked, his fingers fidgeting a little with the dish towel he was holding.  “Until we think we’re ready.”  

“Yeah,” Felicity agreed, hearing the regret in her voice and not wanting to give him the wrong idea.  “I think that’s the responsible thing to do.  Making sure we’re on good footing before we make things more complicated.”  

If she didn’t know Oliver as well as she did, she might miss how stiffly he was holding himself, the little indications he was uneasy, too.  Like how he was holding the dish towel.  She felt just as awkward and flustered, reminding her of her teenage self.  

“I . . . I could use a minute,” she said shyly.  “If you don’t mind finishing the dishes.”  

“No--no, I’ve got it,” Oliver said quickly.  “Why don’t you go have a seat and I’ll bring over the cheesecake.”  

Felicity felt her heart lift a little.  Not only was Oliver not much of a dessert person, but cheesecake was perhaps her favorite kind of sweet.  She smiled at him, unable to hold back showing how much she cared about him.  How much she loved him.  

“That sounds great,” she answered, slipping her apron off and hanging it back up.  “Thank you.”  

Moving quickly, she hurried over to the living area, sinking down on the leather sectional and breathing slowly.  This was not how she anticipated tonight going.  It felt good to have a few moments alone to reassess.  

Within a few minutes, she felt steadier.  Calmer.  Yes, it had been a bit uncomfortable, but at least they hadn’t let the kiss derail their progress.  It was good they had talked it over and gotten on the same page before everything had spiraled out of control.  Hopefully, they would be able to enjoy the rest of their evening together--since their time together always seemed to be in short supply, thanks to their busy schedules.  

The quiet sounds from the kitchen made her glance over, seeing Oliver move as he cleaned up, looking totally at home.  

At home in a way she couldn’t remember him being when they were living together in the loft.  She frowned a little, wondering if her memories were colored by their last conversation there.  But . . . no, there had certainly been times when he hadn’t seemed very comfortable.  

That made her wonder what was it about this place that made him look relaxed.  After kicking off her heels, she stood up and started looking around for an answer to that question.

It was a nice apartment, yes.  More modern than she had realized Oliver’s style to be, with sleek lines and muted colors, but without the high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows in the loft.  But there were also things that were very Oliver.  The well-used kitchen, for one.  The amazing view of Star City, letting him see the place he was working so hard to protect.  Not to mention the tidiness of the place--Felicity had always been the one leaving her shoes and jackets and gadgets all over their old place.  

The most Oliver thing about the apartment were the pictures.  Pretty much wherever you looked, there were photographs of the people in Oliver’s life.  A few snapshots of Digg and Roy, flanking Oliver, all three dressed in their hero suits.  Photos from Oliver’s childhood and teenage years, featuring Tommy and Laurel and Sara.  There was even one of her, taken during their engagement party, at the end of the fireplace mantle.  Its location made something in her stomach turn over, because it couldn’t be an accident that she was on the mantle.  

Not when the fireplace mantle was used to display photos of the Queen family.  

Drawn in, Felicity walked along the mantle, taking in the various pictures.  Ten-year-old Oliver, holding a newborn Thea.  A shot of a toddler Oliver curled up in his mother’s lap with a book, next to a photo she had seen before, of Robert Queen with a teenage Oliver and his serial killer hair--the Oliver she remembered from their very first meeting.  Several of Oliver and Thea, and then, in the center, a family portrait.  

Picking it up, Felicity gazed at it.  She knew there was so much about this family that the camera hadn’t captured.   Yet just looking at the photograph . . . you could see the love.  

“That was my mom’s favorite picture of us.”  

“It’s a good one,” Felicity said, carefully putting it back in its place.  She turned to look at Oliver and smiled at him, watching as he straightened up from setting the plates of cheesecake on the coffee table.  “I like all the pictures.”  

“It was Thea’s idea.  She said the white walls would drive me crazy, and . . . well, she was worried I was too lonely and needed a reminder of who I was fighting for,” Oliver said, holding her gaze, letting her see his vulnerability.  

She had to clear her throat so her voice wouldn’t tremble.  “That sounds like Thea.  Always worrying about her big brother.”  

Oliver huffed out a laugh.  “It goes both ways.  Especially lately.  I think something’s bothering her.”  

“Have you asked her about it?”  Felicity moved over towards him, taking a seat on the sofa.  

Nodding, he joined her, leaving only a bit of space between them.  “I have, and she asked me to just give her some time.  So that’s what I’m doing, even though I feel like I could be helping her if only she would talk to me.”  

During her conversation with Thea, the day she was looking at her apartment, the younger woman had mentioned trying to work through something.  Felicity didn’t want to betray Thea’s confidence, yet at the same time she didn’t want to hold something back from Oliver.  

Lightly resting her hand on his knee, she said, “She mentioned to me, very briefly, that she was thinking something over.  I know as soon as she’s ready, she’ll talk to you.  She doesn’t mean to make you worry--but sometimes you need to work up to talking about what’s bothering you.”  

He gazed at her for a long moment, then slowly covered her hand with his own.  “Okay.”  

Now that they had kissed, the physical contact was making even more tingles go through her than normal.  Felicity wanted to pull away, wanted to fill up this loaded silence with words.  Most of all, she wanted to kiss him again.  

Slipping her hand out from under his, Felicity patted his hand and then gestured to the plates.  “Which one’s mine?”  

Her words broke the spell and Oliver shook his head a little.  “The one with the bigger piece, since I know how you feel about cheesecake.”  

With a small chuckle, Felicity reached out and took her plate.  “Yeah, I have a sweet tooth, sue me.”   She took a bite and let out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

“Good?” he asked, lifting up his own plate.  

“Very good,” she said, licking a bit of cream cheese off her fork.  That got a reaction from Oliver, if the way he shoveled a bite into his mouth was anything to go by.

Smiling to herself, Felicity took another bite, then looked around the apartment.  “This is a really nice place, Oliver.”  

“Thank you.  Not that I really did much to it, other than buying some furniture and putting up all the photos.” 

“You’ve done a lot.  It’s your home,” she said, circling back to what had started this train of thought.  “It suits you.  More than--”  

She stopped, realizing she was blundering into one of the things that was still unresolved between them: just how they had gotten to the point where they had stopped talking and she had walked out.  

Quickly, she stuffed a large bite of cheesecake in her mouth, to give herself time to find the right words.  Beside her, Oliver shifted on the couch, his dessert apparently forgotten when he asked, “More than . . . ?”

Chewing slowly, Felicity reminded herself what had happened before didn’t have to be their fate again.  History repeated itself, but those who didn’t know their history were doomed to repeat it, and oh, she was  _ so  _ nervous if she was mixing metaphors like this.  Not that either of those phrases were metaphors--more homilies, really, but . . . but none of this was helping her explain herself to Oliver.  

Once she swallowed her cheesecake, she looked at Oliver.  “More than in the loft.  And that made me curious about . . . about what I had missed, long before things got bad between us, to explain why you were so uncomfortable in our home.”   

He breathed out, looking a bit thrown.  “Um . . .”  

“Maybe I’ve got it all wrong,” Felicity said, setting her plate aside and touching his forearm lightly.  “I just can’t help feeling you seemed on edge and I’m not sure why.  So if you know why I might have that impression--”  

“It was D.A.V.I.S.”

Felicity blinked.  “D.A.V.I.S.?” she repeated, not sure she had heard Oliver correctly.  Because she didn’t understand what the apartment A.I. had to do with their relationship.  

His expression was sheepish yet resolved.  “Yeah, D.A.V.I.S.  J.A.R.V.I.S., too.  I never felt very comfortable in your parents’ house, but I thought it was because I sneaked into your bedroom whenever we stayed there, disobeying your parents’ rules.  Which I realize is ironic given my teenage history.  But once we moved in together, and D.A.V.I.S. was always there . . .”  

Running a hand over his face, Oliver didn’t really meet her gaze as he continued.  “D.A.V.I.S. monitored my every move, would open doors for me or suddenly speak to give me the answer to a question I hadn’t even asked.  It . . . It got so I felt the same kind of itch I used to get sometimes during my time away.  That feeling you get when you’re in danger.”  

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but then Felicity felt like she might cry.  The idea that something she thought of as a good thing, a convenience that made their lives better, was in fact making Oliver feel like he was reliving those five years when nothing good had ever happened . . . 

“Hey, hey,” Oliver said, reaching out to hold her face in his hands.  “I can tell what you’re thinking, and I promise, it wasn’t that bad.”    

“But you felt like you were back on the island,” she said, trying to stay calm so they could talk about this.  Because this was something that mattered.  That didn’t change how she felt like crying at her blindness and lack of consideration.  She hadn’t even  _ asked  _ Oliver before she had installed D.A.V.I.S. in their apartment!  

His thumb rubbed gently against her cheek.  The soothing motion helped ground her, helped her think.

“I only felt like that when I was really nervous or worried about something--when it was easier to hear those paranoid little thoughts,” Oliver said softly.  “I knew how proud you were of your work on D.A.V.I.S., so I never really said anything.  And when you were in the wheelchair . . . I appreciated that D.A.V.I.S. was there, in case anything happened.  So I was willing to deal with it for your sake.”  

Felicity nodded slowly, taking a few deep breaths.  And also leaning into his hand a bit.  It helped give her the courage to keep talking.  “You didn’t say anything before, though.  Before I got shot, I mean.  I . . . I had no idea you disliked D.A.V.I.S. so much.”  

“I know,” he said, letting his hand drop from her face.  “I should have said something.  I just . . . I never wanted to open that can of worms, because I was afraid of what would happen.  I didn’t want to lose you, so I never wanted to rock the boat.”  

They were supposed to be taking things slow, she knew.  But he was just too far away and he needed comforting--or maybe she did.  

Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around his neck, stroking his shoulders.  “I’m sorry.  You didn’t have to feel like that.  And . . . and you know you don’t have to hold back, right?  If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me about it.  Just like I’m working to talk to you when I need help.”  

His answering nod made his chin brush against her shoulder.  When he spoke, his breath washed over her neck, making her shiver.  

“It’s something I’m working on, too.”  

“Good,” Felicity said, closing her eyes and not moving.  

They stayed that way for a few long moments, just breathing in and out.  It was a simple chaste hug, yet she hoped the love and support and concern she felt for Oliver was flowing out of her and into him.  

Before she totally lost control, she eased her hold on him and in unison, they each shifted away from each other.  Felicity wiped underneath her eyes quickly and did her best to smile at Oliver.  “I’m glad you told me.  Now we can figure out what to do next.  Is there anything you think would make it easier to have D.A.V.I.S. around, or would you rather we just not have him?”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.  Like he didn’t understand what she was talking about.  

Which was understandable, because Felicity had basically just jumped ahead of themselves, hinting that she wanted to move in with him--or more accurately, she wanted them to find a new apartment to share, someday.  An idea that had been in the back of her mind all night.  Why else had she just started doing the dishes without being asked, or had spent so much time exploring this place?  She was trying to figure out how they could fit into each others’ living space again.

This was definitely not moving slow.  In fact, it was rushing to a conclusion that was not foregone.  Because who was to say Oliver would want to move in with her?  That he would want to find a new place for them?  Wouldn’t it be hypocritical for her to suggest moving in together, even with the proviso of it happening ‘someday’?    

Her hands were starting to fidget, so she picked up her plate to keep the trembling hidden.  But then she took a breath and put the plate on the coffee table before looking at Oliver.  She wanted to be honest with him, even when it was embarrassing or scary or difficult.  He deserved that from her.  

“I mean . . . if and when we move in together again, I was hoping we could find someplace new for us, so we--so we could build a home together.  And that means compromising on D.A.V.I.S., since I never want you to feel uncomfortable or tense in your home--in  _ our  _ home.”

If he had looked confused before, now he looked positively dumbfounded.  He blinked again and said, “You--”  His voice cracked and she could see his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed, before trying again.

“You want us to live together?  Someday?”

Felicity nodded, reaching out to grab his hand.  That felt so much better than holding a plate of cheesecake.  “Oliver, I want it all with you someday.”  

His eyes held hers with a laser-like focus, making her feel like he was searching her soul.  And then, he tugged on her hand and pulled her towards him, and Felicity knew what was coming, but that still didn’t prepare her for Oliver kissing her.

Since clearly he had been holding back in the kitchen the first time they had kissed tonight.  Oliver simply poured himself into this kiss, his lips moving against hers, his hands running all over her hair and shoulders and back.  He drew her closer, tipped her head back, and just devoured her.  

“Felicity,” Oliver panted against her lips.  

She couldn’t help moaning his name, but then, something started nagging at her.  And when Oliver’s hand began tugging her top free of the waistband of her skirt, Felicity found herself moving her hands to his chest and pushing him back from her.  

“I thought you wanted to go slow!”  

From the way he blinked, staring at her with a fuzzy look in his eyes, it was taking a moment for her words to penetrate.  When they did, he frowned at her.  

“I thought  _ you  _ wanted to go slow.”  

Her heart was pounding as she moved back from him a little.  This was like her teenage nightmares: dreaming she was taking a test on a subject she had never studied.  “Then why did you kiss me?”  

Oliver ran a hand through his disheveled hair--she must have done that--and blew out a breath.  “Felicity, you just told me you want to have a life with me again.  It . . . it’s what I’ve been waiting to hear since we broke up.  But I thought we were over, done--that you didn’t need me like I needed you.  So when you said you wanted us to move in together, and that you were willing to go without D.A.V.I.S. to make me happy?  I . . . I lost control.  I’m sorry.”  

She opened her mouth to speak, but she saw Oliver’s jaw tense and he held up a hand, halting her words.  

“Wait, no, I’m not sorry,” he said, moving closer to her.  “Felicity, I want you.  I’m tired of dancing around this, tired of holding my tongue.  I let you walk away because I doubted myself.  And I’m probably always going to wonder if I’m good enough for you.  But I know I’m trying, every day, to be what you need.  So let’s stop hiding behind someday.  I want it all with you, however it happens, whenever it happens.  Do you?”

As she gazed at him, Felicity wasn’t sure if this was a situation for her head or her heart.  Intellectually, she couldn’t help worrying this was going too fast, that they were letting themselves get carried away.  Yet emotionally?  Hearing Oliver commit to them, knowing that he wanted and needed her like she did?  Realizing she hadn’t even needed to ask him to forgive her, because he had shown her in every word and action that he already had?  

But--she had to ask.  To make sure this was the right thing.  

“I--I just need to know first--that you forgive me for how I hurt you?” she asked, her hand reaching out and gripping his tightly.

He nodded slowly.  “I don’t think I have anything to forgive, but you think I do.  So, yes.  I forgive you, if you’ll forgive me for not fighting for you--for us.”  

Felicity swallowed, smiling widely.  Her eyes were filling with tears, but she didn’t stop smiling.  “Yes.”  Then, unable to hold back any longer, she threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply, pulling him close to her.  

XXX

“Oliver,” she giggled against his lips, “if you don’t let me go, I can’t leave.”  

The arch of his eyebrow and the quirking of his lips made it clear that he didn’t think that was a shame.  Felicity giggled more and said, “It’s late.  And you were the one to suggest we wait.”  

He dramatically groaned and let his head drop to her shoulder.  “Why did I do that?”  

“Because you’re wonderful and cautious and respectful, not to mention right,” Felicity said, lightly stroking along his spine.  “There’s no need for us to jump into bed.”  

Straightening up, Oliver looked like he was debating that point.  And from how his body felt against hers, she understood why.  Her own body was clamoring, rather loudly, for more than just kissing.  

But that didn’t change the fact that it felt right to wait, just a little bit longer, before they had sex.  Because honestly, when they slept together for the first time in so long?  Felicity didn’t want it to be on a weeknight, when they each had to worry about the next day’s schedules.  

She took a small step back from him and stroked his arms.  “I’m gonna clear my calendar for Friday through Sunday.  You’ll do that, too, as much as you can, and then . . . it’ll be just us.”  

“Us,” he repeated, smiling at her.  “I like being an us again.”  

After so many years of sweet, utterly perfect statements from Oliver, she should have gotten used to them.  She never had, though.  If she had her way, she never would--because the rush of love whenever he said something like that just felt too good.  

“Me, too,” she said, smiling up at him.  She pecked his lips and then took another step back.  “I think we deserve to have a full weekend to ourselves.”  

Oliver nodded, a soft, happy smile on his face.  He looked so good all rumpled: his hair showing signs of her hands running through it, his tie gone, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the tails pulled from his pants.  She doubted she looked as good after forty-five minutes of making out, but she knew Oliver would disagree with her--vehemently--if she said that out loud.  

“I’ll text you when I get home,” she told him, sliding her feet into her heels and using his forearm to balance herself.   

“All right,” Oliver said with a small smile.  “Good night, Felicity.”  

“Good night, Oliver.  Make sure you get to bed at a decent-for-normal-people hour, okay?  I’ll need you well-rested this weekend,” she said, letting her eyes flick over him before returning to his face.  

She grinned at his expression of mock-pain and kissed his cheek quickly before she opened the door and stepped out of his apartment.  She looked back over her shoulder at him, smiling at how he stood in the doorway and watched until she stepped onto the elevator.  

At some point, her fears and worries would reawaken and modify the happy, blissful joy she was feeling.  But until then, she was going to enjoy this.  So she whipped out her phone and sent a quick text to Caitlin, letting her know the good news.

Being her best friend, Caitlin did not let her down.  Halfway through her drive home, Felicity’s phone rang with Caitlin's ring tone.  

“Hello?” Felicity answered, grinning widely as she waited for Caitlin’s reaction.

“Oh my gosh, you ‘kissed and then some’?!?” Caitlin said, quoting part of Felicity’s text.  “What does ‘and then some’ mean?” 

“Strictly above the waist action.  I . . . I was ready for more, but Oliver slowed us down, just for a few days,” Felicity replied.  

There was a definite sigh of relief from Caitlin, which made Felicity’s eyebrows go up.  “Do you think we should wait longer?”

“No!  Of course I don’t think that--I’m amazed you were willing to wait,” Caitlin said.  “I know how much you two love each other.”  

Felicity smiled to herself.  “We do.  We--we haven’t said it yet, but we know how we feel.  Really, after everything’s that happened, whatever Oliver asked of me, I would do.  So now, we’re going to clear the weekend and spend it together, just the two of us.”  

“That’s so romantic,” Caitlin said.  “And hot.”  

Giggling, Felicity nodded as she turned into the secure parking garage underneath her apartment building.  “Emphasis on the hot.  Oh my God, it was so good.  But I’m glad Oliver slowed us down, because I know it would be just a matter of time until I started doubting things.  Now I can process everything and be ready for this weekend.  No doubts, no reservations.”  

“And really, if you have any doubts about Oliver, you can remind yourself he was the one to slow things down.”  

“Exactly,” Felicity said.  “I just got home, so I need to text Oliver and then probably go to bed.  This week is going to drag so much.”  

“Okay--sweet dreams, Felicity!”

With another smile, Felicity replied, “Sweet dreams, Cait,” before hanging up.  She felt like she was floating as she took the elevator up to her apartment.  And she knew the smile on her face was wide and beaming.  

After sending a text to Oliver--and receiving a sweet, romantic, slightly-dirty one in response from him that made her giggle and swoon--Felicity began getting ready for bed.  Yet once she was in bed and her journal entry was completed, she still didn’t feel sleepy.  She was still too keyed up, too giddy.  

Glancing at the clock, Felicity bit her lip.  She really wanted to tell her mom the good news, but it was late, even here on the West Coast.  In New York, where Pepper was, it was just past midnight.  But her mother was such a night owl, Felicity didn’t think she would be too upset about the late-night call.

Her decision made, Felicity picked up her phone and hit her mother’s contact.  Leaning back against the pillows, she curled up, waiting for her to answer.  But when the call finally connected, Felicity felt her mouth drop open at the mumbled voice she heard.  

The mumbled,  _ masculine  _ voice.  

“‘Lo?” her father said, sounding sleepy.  

“Dad?” Felicity said, not completely sure she was really hearing what she was hearing.  

“Hey, Felicity.  How are you--oh, crap.”  

She opened and closed her mouth, not sure what to say.  Because . . . it was midnight in New York.  Her father had just answered her mother’s phone.  And he sounded like he had been asleep.  

There was a rustling from the other end of the phone, and then her mother said, “Felicity, honey?”

“Mom?” she asked, the single word holding multiple questions.  

“It’s late--is everything okay?”  Pepper sounded concerned, which made Felicity’s brain finally kick into gear.  

“Yes--yes!  Everything’s fine--I wanted to give you some good news, but--but you seem . . . busy.”  

Tony said something too muffled for Felicity to hear, then Pepper said, a note of embarrassment in her voice, “Why don’t you call me tomorrow, honey?  Then we can talk about your good news, which I’m very happy about.”  

“And you’ll tell me yours?” Felicity asked, grinning and raising an eyebrow.  

To Felicity’s even greater shock, her mother actually  _ giggled _ .  “Yes.  I promise.”  

“Okay, great,” she said, biting her lip and trying not to giggle, too.  “Talk to you tomorrow.”  

“Bye, Felicity,” her mother said, then there was a pause and her father yelled, “Bye!”  

Laughing, Felicity hung up the phone and flopped back against the pillows, gazing up at the ceiling.  She hadn’t expected to have proof her parents had reunited--and then some--but she was so happy for both of them.  Even if the thought of her parents sleeping together made her feel thrilled and embarrassed at the same time.  

More than that, though, it made her feel like everything was falling into place.  That everything was the way it was supposed to be.  Her parents were back together, she and Oliver were back together . . . 

Everything felt perfect.

End, Chapter 13 

  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Taking a deep breath, Felicity walked into the office that had been used for Oliver’s campaign, and doubled as  the entrance to the lair.  She wiped a hand off on her jeans, not wanting her sweaty palms to stain the pretty wrapping paper covering the gift she was holding.  

To celebrate the arrival of Sara Diggle and the return of Lyla from the ARGUS safe house, Oliver had suggested holding a baby shower for the team in the lair.  It would also be a way for Felicity to meet and spend some time with the new team members she hadn’t really met: besides her brief meeting with Dinah Drake, there was also a discharged Navy veteran with a chip on his shoulder named Rene Ramirez and Rory Regan, a young man with a set of mystical rags that protected him.  

A young man who came from Havenrock.  

Oliver had warned Felicity about Rory’s background--as well as letting her know he had talked to Rory about her--but he had also told her that he thought she and Rory would get along well.  Felicity wasn’t so sure herself, but if Rory was a member of the team, she wanted to find a way to clear the air between them.  

She couldn’t help worrying that this event would be awkward, even beyond the meeting with Rory, since it was a bunch of people she didn’t know mixed with people she knew very well.  And since tonight they would be announcing to the team--to their friends--that they had gotten back together, Felicity was worried about how everyone would take that.  

Closing her eyes, Felicity took another deep breath.  Today was going to be a good day.  She was looking forward to getting to know the rest of the team, spending time with Curtis, Thea and Roy, and meeting John’s daughter.  This was a happy occasion and she wanted to have a good time.  

“It’s amazing--I knew you were worrying about something so I wanted to come over, but as I got closer, I could see you get less worried.”  

The sound of Oliver’s voice made her open her eyes with a smile.  “Just giving myself a little positive reinforcement--although you help a lot, too,” she told him as she went up to kiss him softly, shifting her gift for Sara against her hip.  “Hi.”  

He kissed her back slowly, his hand coming to rest on her back.  “Are you feeling nervous about anything in particular?”

Nodding, she leaned against him a little.  “Talking to Rory.”  

“Ah,” he said, rubbing her back.  “You know you don’t have to talk to him about that tonight.  He’d understand if you wanted to wait.”  

“But I don’t want to wait,” she said, gazing up at him.  “I don’t want to let this fester, not when it could have an impact on the team.  Besides . . . I want to talk about what happened.  What I did.”  

For a long moment, he looked at her, his head tilted to the side.  “I’m proud of you.”  

The simple compliment made her blush.  “Thank you.”  

Oliver smiled and rubbed her back again, before taking the gift-wrapped package from her.  “Most everyone is here, so let’s get downstairs and get the party started.”  

Chuckling softly, she nodded and followed him.  “Where’s your gift?  You can’t use mine to hide that you didn’t get Sara anything.”  

She laughed harder when Oliver mock-glared at her.  “I’ll have you know my gift is downstairs.  Gifts, actually--I talked with Walter and he helped me set up a small trust fund for Sara.  College isn’t going to get cheaper, so I thought John and Lyla wouldn’t mind if I gave her a head start.”  

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said as they stepped into the elevator.  “Not to mention the perfect gift.”  

He ducked his head a little, a move that always made her melt.  Felicity kissed his cheek, right over his dimple.  Oliver turned his head and kissed her slowly in response, only pulling away when the elevator doors parted.  

The lair had been prepared for a party, Felicity saw as she followed Oliver.  There was music coming from one of the computers, the lights had been lowered slightly, and there was a spread of food and drinks on a table.  Combined with the conference table and a new seating area featuring comfy chairs and a sofa, it didn’t look that different from Verdant--something that was explained when Felicity saw Tommy and Laurel.  

Besides Oliver’s best friends from childhood, Felicity saw Roy and Thea talking quietly, with a young man she guessed was Rene standing with them.  By process of elimination, that meant it was Rory talking to Dinah.  The only people missing were John, Lyla and Sara--Oliver had probably set it up that way, knowing his occasional flair for drama, Felicity thought with a smile.

“Felicity!”  

Her name was spoken by multiple voices, and her earlier worries seemed very silly now as she began to greet everyone.  For the next twenty minutes or so, she mingled with everyone, talking and smiling.  Oliver eventually brought her a drink, something she knew Laurel and Thea both noticed.  She just smiled and sipped from her glass of wine and kept talking.

Still, she was thankful when John and Lyla showed up, carrying Sara, to take the attention away from her.  Because really, a tiny adorable baby was always the center of attention.  Especially one who was quiet, looking around with a set of big, brown eyes, as she was passed from person to person.  

“Oh, she is scrumptious,” Felicity said when it was her turn, cuddling Sara against her.  She stroked the top of Sara’s head, looking up towards John with a smile.  But it was Oliver, standing beside Digg, who caught her attention--or rather, the look in his eyes.  A longing, hopeful, resolved look.  Like he was looking at a preview of a future he wanted.  

It made her breath catch, but she smiled back at Oliver.  Because the idea that someday, she would be holding a baby that would be hers?  A baby whose father would be Oliver?  She wanted that, too.  She had wanted that for a while; the events of this past spring had made that dream seem impossible, but then, she should have known that when it came to the two of them, nothing was impossible.  

Felicity looked down at Sara and smiled.  “You are a very lucky little girl, Sara Diggle.  I hope you always remember that.”  

“She’s lucky to have so many people looking out for her,” Lyla said, walking over to stand beside Felicity.  “Particularly her aunt Felicity.  I’m so glad you’re back.”  

“It’s good to be back,” Felicity said with a smile.  “I needed to go away to get better, but I never really considered going anywhere but Star City when I was ready to pick my life back up.”  

Lyla nodded.  “Home is always about the people that are there.”

From the way Lyla’s eyes flicked over to Oliver before coming back to meet Felicity’s, it was clear who the ARGUS director thought Felicity equated home with.  And she wasn’t wrong, so Felicity just smiled.  

“How about you let Uncle Oliver hold Sara and you help me keep track of the gifts?  Since everyone has done too much,” Lyla said, patting Felicity’s shoulder.  

“We’re excited,” Oliver said, walking over towards them.  “We don’t get together for good things very often.”  

“Well, maybe this is a sign of things changing,” Lyla said to Oliver.  

Carefully, Felicity moved to pass Sara to Oliver, who easily accepted the baby.  When she was in Oliver’s arms, Sara let out a soft coo, waving her arms and legs and smiling up at Oliver.  

“Happy baby,” Felicity said, smiling at Oliver.  Taking in how right he looked, holding Sara against his broad chest.  

Yeah, that desire to have a baby with Oliver?  It hadn’t gone away.  

As everyone sat down to watch while Lyla and John open the presents, Felicity took notes on her phone, indicating who had given which gift.  Yet she was also making mental notes.  Planning for what was to come, as much as you could plan a difficult conversation.  

XXX

Holding a glass of wine in her hand, Felicity slowly walked across the lair, to where Rory was standing by himself.  As she approached, her nerves churning away, she pasted on a smile that she hoped looked friendly and non-threatening.  

“Hi, Rory.”  

He looked at her and nodded.  “Hi, Felicity.  It’s nice to meet you.”  

“Thank you,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other.  “Would it be all right if we talked for a few minutes?”  

“Now?” he asked, sounding surprised.  

She shrugged her shoulders.  “No time like the present?  And besides, I’d rather we talked first, before Oliver and I . . .”

“Tell everyone that you’re back together?”

Her cheeks flushed at the realization that she and Oliver hadn’t been as subtle as they thought.  Not that they had been trying to be subtle, but still, it was a little embarrassing.  

Nodding, Felicity adjusted her glasses.  “I thought it would be good if we talked about Havenrock,” she said, ripping the Band-aid off.  

“I’m curious--why?” Rory asked, taking a sip from the beer he seemed to be nursing.  

“Why do I want to talk?” Felicity asked, pretty much rhetorically.  When Rory just nodded, she took a breath.  “Because you’re part of the team, and I’ll be around at least some of the time, so I don’t want to make an already difficult situation worse.  You would be perfectly justified for hating me, and I’m not trying to change how you feel--I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened.”  

Rory looked at her.  “What happened?  Oliver told me that you feel responsible for what happened to my hometown, but he also said it was really Damian Darhk’s fault.”  

Now she was glad she had done her best to plan for this conversation.  With her newfound babbling problem, she might have made it worse if she was just speaking off the top of her head.  Although hopefully the words she had gone over in her head didn’t sound too practiced; Rory didn’t seem to indicate that, which made Felicity feel slightly better.  

Choosing her words carefully, she explained how Damian Darhk had captured Rubicon from ARGUS and used it to send nuclear bombs against dozens of cities around the world.  She talked about her frantic quest to scuttle the launches, and how she was successful in all but one: the bomb that was en route to Monument Point, a town of several million people.  

“I was too slow--I wasn’t able to stop it from launching,” Felicity said quietly.  “The only choice I could see was diverting it to somewhere else, someplace less populated.  And the best spot, from what I could tell, was an area close to Havenrock.  Which had less than a hundred thousand people, so fewer casualties overall.”  

Her voice was starting to get choked up, and she took a small sip from her wine to fortify herself.  “I’m sorry, Rory.  I wish I could have done more, and--and what I did is something I’m working to forgive myself for, even if I don’t know that I ever will.”  

He had stayed quiet as she spoke, but now that she was done and he remained silent, Felicity felt ready to bolt.  Clearly she hadn’t done enough to explain herself, she didn’t show how sorry she was--or perhaps her guilt seemed due more to confronting someone so affected by her actions.  Like the thief who isn’t sorry they stole but was terribly sorry they got caught.  

“You--you probably need some time to consider all this--” Felicity began, but Rory held up a hand.

“Did you know that I’m Jewish?”

Felicity shook her head.  “No, I didn’t know that,” she said, not really sure where Rory was going with this.  

“In Judaism, when you’ve wronged someone, you have to go to that person for forgiveness--God can’t forgive you for the sins you’ve committed against another person,” Rory said quietly.  “We’re very big on atonement; we have a whole Day of Atonement.  It’s called Yom Kippur, and it’s the most important Jewish holiday there is.  And it’s happening in a few weeks, so your apology is well-timed.”  

Unlike her, Rory didn’t seem to need to fill a silence with words; he let his statement hang in the air, causing Felicity to finally ask, “I don’t know what to say?”

He gave her a small smile.  “I appreciate that you came to me to apologize.  To explain why my town was wiped out.  And you’re right, it is a lot to take in.  But I think with time, I can forgive you.  Which means you should also be able to forgive yourself.  You were in an unforgivable situation and you made the best decision you could.  And you would be better in the long run if you find a way to let it go.”

Sniffing, Felicity nodded.  “I’m trying.  And--and I’m not going to lie, if you can forgive me someday, that--that really helps.  So . . . thank you, Rory.  Thank you very much.”  

“You’re welcome, Felicity,” he said with a small smile.  “How about we enjoy the rest of the party and we’ll talk again another time?”

“Okay,” she said, quickly wiping at her eyes.  “I’m just--gonna take a minute first.  Thanks, Rory.”  

With another nod, he walked back towards the party action, leaving her alone.  

Moving deeper into the dimly-lit area on the edge of the lair, Felicity took a few breaths.  That had gone a lot better than she had hoped, yet she still felt emotional and shaky.  It was funny: Rory had given her advice that wasn’t that different from what she had told Oliver, during their first catastrophic dinner.  About needing to forgive herself when she asked others to forgive her.  Having her own request to Oliver turned around and directed towards herself was . . . well, she understood how much she had asked of Oliver.  But he had come so far, and she knew she could go just as far, too.  

Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, but Oliver’s soft voice, saying her name, made her relax.  “I’m okay,” she said to his unasked question.  But at the same time, she stepped up to him and slid her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest.  

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as he stroked her hair.  

Her glasses were digging into her face and the scent of rat poison was mixing with Oliver’s cologne into a not-very-pleasant fragrance, but Felicity didn’t move.  Not until she felt ready.  Then she eased up on her grip and shifted back a little, just enough so she could look up at him.  

“Okay?” he asked softly, gently swiping his thumb over the top of her cheek.  

“Getting there,” she said.  

Oliver smiled at her.  “Good.”  Further proving that he was the best man she had ever met, Oliver didn’t ask her how her conversation with Rory had gone.  He gave her space by changing the subject.

“Thea talked to me.  Thea and Roy, actually.  They’ve both decided they want to take a bit of a step back from all of this.”  

Felicity blinked.  “They don’t want to be on the team anymore?”

“More like they want to be reserves.  Around to help pitch when it’s an ‘all hands on deck’ situation, or to take a patrol here or there,” Oliver explained.  “I think it’s a good idea.”  

“Are you okay with that?” Felicity asked, her hands gently rubbing his lower back.

“I’m a little worried that it’s not going to be easy on them, to just drop in from time to time,” he admitted.  “But in the same breath--I can’t make them stay.  And Thea . . . she’s worried that she’s not making good choices when she’s out in the field.  That she’s letting the bloodlust hold too much sway, even though she’s been cured of that.”  

In his voice, she could hear the guilt.  His belief that if it hadn’t been for him, Thea wouldn’t be experiencing this pain.

“If you hadn’t saved Thea from Ra’s, she would be dead right now,” Felicity told him.  “And that would be so much worse than anything she’s facing right now.”  

He looked down at her, a small smile quirking his lips.  “How do you always know the right thing to say?”  

Snorting softly, Felicity went up on her toes and kissed his cheek.  “I wouldn’t say that.  Just most of the time, I know how you’re thinking, so I know what to say.  And even then, I’ve messed up plenty.” 

Oliver’s fingers caught her chin and gently drew her in for a soft kiss.  Against her lips, he said, “You know me better than anyone.”  

When he let her go, Felicity dropped back off her toes, gazing up at Oliver.  It was only several non-subtle throat clearings that made her look away, to see the whole team gathered in front of them, expressions ranging from smiles to smirks on their faces.  

Thea, as always, stepped up with something to say.  “Now I understand all this smiling you’ve been doing lately, Ollie,” she teased.  

“You two wanna tell us something?” Digg asked, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking.  

“Really?  You’re going to make them state the obvious?” Lyla asked her husband.  

“Yes,” Roy and Rene said in unison, making everyone laugh.  Curtis actually snorted, while Dinah just looked amused and Rory smiled.  

They turned to face the rest of the team, and Felicity grinned, leaning against Oliver’s side.  Oliver wrapped an arm around her and said, “Okay, fine--yes, Felicity and I are dating again.”

A round of applause made Felicity startle, then laugh.  She looked up at Oliver, who was shaking his head.  “I blame Thea for all this.”

“I don’t care who’s to blame--I’m just thankful to be here,” Felicity said as she leaned up to kiss him, prompting an even louder burst of applause from the team.

XXX

Felicity hummed softly as she chopped mushrooms and peppers, then slid them across the counter to Oliver.  He smiled at her and added the chopped veggies to a mixture of eggs, milk and cheese.  Pouring it all into a pie shell, Oliver carefully slid the quiche into the oven to bake.  

“What time are your parents arriving?” he asked as he straightened up, picking up his coffee cup and sipping from it.

Checking her watch, Felicity went back to the fruit salad she was preparing.  “Any minute now.  I’m so excited to see them.  Do you know, I haven’t seen my parents together since the last brunch we had with them?”

“Really?” Oliver asked, looking at her curiously.  “That was the last time?”  

She nodded as she dumped some pineapple into a bowl.  “That was the last time.”  

“And look at how much has changed,” he said, leaning in towards her.  

Lifting her head with a smile, Felicity kissed him.  “So much.”  

Oliver grinned at her as he pulled back.  “I’m going to shower quick, since someone decided it was more important for both of us to ‘work out’ this morning.”

“Like you’re complaining,” Felicity said, beaming at him.  “And you were a gentleman and let me shower first, since this is my apartment.  If you had been a normal guy, you would have demanded to use the bathroom first.”  

“Is that what you’d prefer?” 

“Nope--I want you,” Felicity told him, kissing his cheek.  “Go shower and I’ll keep an eye on the quiche.”  

A worried look flashed across his face, making Felicity giggle.  Because no matter how much he had tried, she would never really get the hang of cooking.  

“Or I’ll keep an eye on the timer and I’ll call you when there’s five minutes left,” she amended.  

He had the grace to look sheepish as he smiled and nodded.  “Deal.  See you in a bit.”  

Watching him jog away, Felicity smiled and went back to making the fruit salad.  As she chopped and sliced the fruit, she found herself reflecting on all those changes that had happened--not just since the last brunch she and Oliver had shared with her parents, but since she had moved back to Star City.  

In the few weeks that they had been an official couple again, they had been taking it slow.  Well, as slow as two people who saw each other every day and usually spent every night together could take it.  As she had thought, once they took that step into physical intimacy, Felicity found it hard to let Oliver go.  And he felt the same way.  But they were both enjoying waiting to find a new place together--they had talked about waiting until Oliver’s lease was up to find a new place, so they wouldn’t both be breaking leases.  

But not moving in together just yet allowed them to have their own spaces, let them ease back into their relationship as Felicity kept working on her recovery.  But she was feeling so much stronger with every day, she believed that soon, she would want to live with Oliver again--leases be damned.  

Chuckling to herself, Felicity carried the completed salad to the fridge, then poured herself another cup of coffee.  She glanced at the oven and saw there was still ten minutes before she needed to alert Oliver, so she went to the small balcony that was just off the living area.  

It was a cool October morning, but the sunshine slanted over the view, making Star City sparkle.  She smiled as she leaned against the railing and sipped her coffee.  The way the city looked today seemed like a good metaphor for her life.  

There were dark spots, places hidden in the shadows.  But on the whole?  It gave off its own light as well as reflected back the light that came in.    

“Felicity?  Your parents are here.”  

“Oh!” she said, surprised she had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized Oliver was out of the shower.  “I wanted to change my shoes first--”  

“Too late,” her father said, grinning at her.  He walked towards her and hugged her tightly.  Over his shoulder, she saw Pepper standing beside Oliver, a big smile on her face, looking healthier than even the last time Felicity had seen her. 

When her father pulled back, he looked good, too.  Over the two months they had been together at the Avengers compound, he had been getting sleep on a more regular, consistent basis, eating better and making time to do things other than work.  It seemed that he had kept up those good habits since she left.  

“You guys look great,” Felicity said, kissing Tony’s cheek and then walking off the balcony and into the kitchen to hug her mother.  “I’m so glad to see you together.”  

“Thank you, honey,” Pepper said, hugging her back.  “You look wonderful, too.  I suppose we have Oliver to thank for that?”  

Felicity pulled back with a smile, looking over at Oliver, who was smiling bashfully.  “He’s a big part of it.”  

“Is he also a big part of whatever smells good?” her father asked.  “Because I’m starving.”  

“That’s why it smells good--I had nothing to do with the quiche,” Felicity replied, prompting laughter from everyone.  

“You could learn, you just don’t want to,” Oliver said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he walked over to the kitchen.  

Pepper smiled and wrapped an arm around Felicity’s shoulders.  “Things are going well, I see.”  

Blushing a little, Felicity nodded.  “Very well.  We’ve each still got our own places, but . . .”  

“Not for long,” Tony said idly.  “After all, how do you even see each other with Oliver being mayor and the Green Arrow?”

“It’s been tough, but we didn’t want to rush things while we were starting over and when Oliver’s workload doubled,” she acknowledged.

“Sounds like you’ve got this, Felicity,” her father said, eyeing her.  “Proud of you, you know.”  

She smiled shyly, reaching out to take his hand.  “Proud of you, too.  Both of you.”  

With Pepper’s arm still around her, and holding Tony’s hand, Felicity savored her family being reunited.  At least, one small unit of her family: the family that was hers by blood.  But if this year had taught her anything, your blood family was really just the tip of the iceberg.  

Her father kissed her forehead.  “Point me towards the coffee?”  

“Right in there,” Felicity said, gesturing to the kitchen.  “Oliver can show you were the mugs are.”  

“Got it,” Tony said, kissing Pepper emphatically before he went after his coffee.  

Turning to look at her mother, Felicity grinned at the blush on Pepper’s face.  “That’s new.  You guys were never that big on PDA before.”  

“Which was my issue,” Pepper admitted.  “I didn’t think it looked proper.  My foster parents weren’t affectionate like that.  But now . . . I like it.”  

Felicity gave her mother a little hip bump.  “I like it, too.  I mean, it’s kinda weird, because you are my parents, but still . . . it’s good to see how happy you are.”  

“Just like it’s good to see you with Oliver again,” Pepper said, smiling at Felicity.

Unable to hold back her happy little sigh, Felicity said, “He’s wonderful, Mom.  Like, I already knew that, but--he’s really just perfect.”  

Laughing, Pepper hugged her.  “No fights yet?”  

“Actually, we’ve had a couple little tiffs, but we’ve managed to work through them,” Felicity said proudly.  “And I’m not going to lie--making up is really fun.”  

Her eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth, because she did not just bring up make up sex with her mother.  But Pepper just laughed.  

“It is, isn’t it?”  

“Ugh, Mom!” Felicity said, wrinkling her nose.  “I’m okay with PDA, but I’m drawing the line right here.”  

“Okay, okay,” her mother said, sounding not the slightest bit repentant.  Not with the big smile on her face.  “That coffee idea of your father’s sounds like an excellent idea.”  

Nodding, Felicity led her mother into the kitchen.  “So are you two discussing very manly topics?” she asked Oliver as she got some mugs out.  

“Mmm, yes.  Red meat.  Beer.  Being a costumed crime-fighter,” Oliver said, his face blank except for his sparkling eyes.  

“Oliver’s going to teach me how to make an omelet,” Tony announced.  

Beside her, Pepper let out a soft sigh, and Felicity realized it must be another one of those private things between her parents, like their ‘twelve percent’ joke.  The fact that they were referencing those shared moments gave even more evidence that her parents were stronger than ever.  

“The quiche is done, so Tony, Pepper, why don’t you take a seat and we’ll bring out the food?” Oliver suggested, picking up two hot pads and opening the oven door.  

Felicity moved into action, taking the fruit salad and carafe of orange juice out of the fridge and then helping Oliver serve the quiche.  And throughout the meal, as she watched her parents and bantered with them, while holding Oliver’s hand, Felicity felt like all was right with the world.

Well, nearly all.  Because as she held Oliver’s hand, she kept feeling like his left hand was missing something.  Something that she really wanted to be there.  Something that would match her left hand and show the world that the two of them were a family, too.

XXX

“Oh, I ate too much,” Felicity said, rubbing her stomach.  “But the quiche was so good . . . “  

Oliver chuckled and reached over to rub her stomach, too.  “I know I should apologize for that, but I’m not going to.”  

“I wouldn’t let you--because then you might not make quiche that often, and that would make me sad,” Felicity told him, dramatically pouting her lips and giving him her best version of puppy dog eyes.

With a quiet snort, Oliver kissed her cheek.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to give up making quiche.”  

“Good,” Felicity said, turning into his body and cuddling up against him.  

Her parents had left a few minutes ago, planning to explore some different parts of Star City before meeting up with Felicity and Oliver tonight for dinner and a show.  Oliver had made noises about cleaning up, but Felicity had pulled him onto the couch with the statement that the dishes could wait.  

Happily, Oliver was more than happy to oblige; he had wrapped his arms around her and held her close.  And now, here they were, together and happy.  

Running her fingers along his arm, Felicity tilted her head back to look up at him.  “Oliver?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, kissing her temple.  

“Can I talk to you about the team?”  

From the way his body stiffened against hers, Felicity knew he was experiencing some kind of strong emotion.  Quickly, she said, “I wanted to talk about my role.  I think--I think I’d like to be like Thea and Roy.”  

“What?” he asked, making Felicity shift around to face him.

“I want to be a reserve member.  Curtis can handle what you encounter, and I’m just not up for being a full-time part of the team.  But when you need some extra help, I want to be there,” Felicity said, rubbing his shoulders.  

“We don’t have to put a name to your position on the team--”  

Felicity shook her head.  “I think we do.  For a lot of reasons, but most of all, so Curtis knows his place.  So he knows I’m not going to randomly come in and take over--I’ll only be involved when we’re in a ‘all hands on deck’ kind of situation.”  

He tilted his head to the side.  “Do you really think Curtis feels that insecure?”  

“I would feel that way if I was in his shoes,” Felicity said with a shrug of her shoulders.  “I just want things to be clear.  And if Thea and Roy are already part of the reserve squad, why can’t I, too?  I just . . . I know I can’t devote the time to the team, which believe me, I feel guilty about--”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Oliver interrupted, stroking her hair.  “I promise, Felicity.  With running SI, you have too much going on.  And the work you do there is just as important as what I do as the Green Arrow.”  

Taking a few breaths, Felicity managed to smile at Oliver, once again struck by how kind he was.  For someone who always saw himself as a monster, he was more like a Sesame Street kind of monster in her book.  

“Thank you,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss him.  

One kiss quickly turned into more than one, especially when their hands started moving over each other’s bodies.  Felicity let out a soft moan, slumping back against the sofa and fisting her hands in his shirt.  

“Felicity,” Oliver panted against her lips.  

She ran her hands through his hair, breathing hard.  As amazing as Oliver felt, there was something else she wanted to talk to him about.  Something much more personal than the team.  

Shifting back from him, she stroked his arms.  “Oliver?”  

“Hmm . . . ?” he asked, blinking a little.  As the daze lifted, he gave his head a little shake and sat back, looking at her.  “What is it, Felicity?”

Licking her lips, she took a deep breath.  “There’s something I’ve been thinking about today.  All during brunch, I was looking at my parents and thinking how happy they looked.”  

“They did look really happy.  I’m glad for them,” Oliver said, stroking her hair.  

“Me, too.  And it got me thinking.  About . . . about us, and about how we were before, and how we are now . . . and what I’d like to happen next for us and where we go from here . . .”  

Her nerves were getting the better of her, Felicity could tell.  Why else would she be babbling like this without really saying anything?  Oliver was so patient, listening to her and not trying to put words in her mouth or cut her off, which she appreciated, but . . . she was ready to tell him what she was getting at.  

“Oliver, do you think we ever might--we ever might get back to where we were?”  

He frowned a little.  “Um, well, I thought we weren’t really worrying about that . . . that we were trying to start fresh.”  

“Yes, I know--and you’re right, it is about starting over.  But--but there is one thing that I’m hoping will happen for us, and I was just wondering if you were also hoping it would happen,” Felicity said, biting on her lower lip.  

“Felicity,” Oliver said, reaching out and stroking her hair.  “I can tell you’re nervous.  But I think we’ve figured out that there’s nothing we can’t talk about.  So just go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking about, and we’ll figure out what comes next together.”  

She nodded, doing her best to smile at him, trying to reassure him.  Or maybe trying to reassure herself.  That asking him the question that had been going through her mind all day wouldn’t backfire on her.  

Taking a deep breath, Felicity braced herself.  “I know I gave you back the ring, but . . . do you think that someday, it might be mine again?”  

Oliver looked at her, his eyes wide.  “You--are you proposing to me?”

“I--I suppose you could see it like that,” Felicity said, feeling her face flush.  “I just . . . I just want to know where you think we might end up.  And tell you that I, um, I haven’t changed my mind about us.  I know I broke our engagement, but . . . I want to marry you, Oliver.”  

Her words hung in the air, a tense silence falling once she stopped talking.  Felicity fidgeted, waiting for Oliver to say something, to say anything.  Was he shocked at how forward she was being?  Or confused by her coming out with marriage talk when they weren’t even living together yet?  

When Oliver shifted, moving off the couch and rising to his feet, Felicity’s stomach dropped to someplace lower than her feet.  Oh, God, he was leaving, he wasn’t ready for this--

Felicity sucked in a breath when Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out something: a small velvet box.  A box she remembered.  

“Felicity,” he said softly, sitting down on the coffee table in front of her.  “I’ve been carrying this with me ever since our second first date.  It was sitting in my pocket when we fought in that restaurant, when we realized we were repeating the same mistakes and we chose to break the pattern.  Whenever we’ve seen each other, this box has been in my pocket, just waiting for me to work up my courage.”  

Giving her a small, soft, smile, he opened the box.  “Trust you to have more courage than me.”  

The ring was even more beautiful than she had remembered.  Felicity felt her finger itch, wanting to have it back where it belonged.  But she hesitated, looking at him.  “You’re sure, Oliver?”

He quirked an eyebrow and smiled wider at her.  “Felicity, I’ve been carrying this around for weeks.  How much more sure do you want me to be?”

That made her laugh.  Then she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.  “You’re right, you’re right.  And . . . yes, Oliver.”  

She felt his lips press a kiss against her hair, then he pulled back, beaming at her as he lifted the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger.  “The only thing I ask is that this time, we don’t have a long engagement.”  

Holding up her hand, Felicity wiggled her fingers, watching the light glint off the diamond, feeling a sense of rightness at having this ring be hers again.  

“I don’t want to wait, either,” she told him, tearing her eyes away from the ring.  “I can learn from my mistakes.”  

“It’s not like that, though,” Oliver said, stroking her hair.  “I think we just weren’t ready yet--that’s why we hadn’t gotten married yet.  But now?  We’re ready.”  

Nodding, she smiled at him softly.  “Yeah, we are.”  

Oliver smiled at her, reaching out to stroke her cheek.  “I love you.”  

Her heart flipped as she realized this was the first time one of them had said the words.  Of course it would be Oliver to say it first.  But really, it didn’t matter who said it first or who said it most--just as long as they both felt it and expressed it.  

“I love you, too,” Felicity said, smiling at Oliver before she hugged him tightly.  

With Oliver’s arms around her and his family’s ring on her finger, Felicity knew she was right where she belonged.  That she had finished one chapter of her life, that she had completed the first stage of her recovery, and now she was on the verge of something new.  Something so much bigger than just herself.  

It was about forming a new family unit, made up of Oliver and her friends and her parents and her honorary aunts and uncles.  A vast collection of people, all united in loving her.  The kind of family who would support her, no matter what.  And that she would support when they needed her help.  

That was what family was.  And she was ready to start building that family with Oliver.  The man she loved, the man who loved her.  

Felicity was so lucky to have a family like this.

End, Chapter 14 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue is also posted, so feel free to give that a read.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More notes at the end, but just as a FYI, this story follows a one-shot I wrote about Oliver's bachelor party. You can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8555839/chapters/22860732).

If it wasn’t for her father’s steadying grip, Felicity Stark would have probably fallen off her high heels and made a complete mess of herself.  And since it was her wedding day, the bride falling over had to be bad luck in some tradition or culture.  

Although really, she was so excited and happy and a little bit nervous, maybe that was why a bride was given away by her father--so that she wouldn’t collapse and ruin the wedding.  Not that Tony was actually giving her away--she was an independent woman and this wasn’t about her leaving her family behind.  It was about making her family bigger.  

In less than a minute, she would enter the ballroom of the Starling Grand Hotel and proceed down the aisle with her father by her side.  She would walk past the people she loved most, gathered to watch her marry the man she loved, before a celebration that was bound to be one for the ages.  It was hard to believe that it had all come together in only a month, but neither she nor Oliver had wanted a long engagement, and after all, what was the point of being as rich as she was if she couldn’t grease the wheels?   

She couldn’t wait.  Felicity felt like she was almost vibrating with impatience, she was so ready to marry Oliver.

“Okay there, Felicity?” her father asked as the music swelled, quite audible through the closed doors of the ballroom.

“Yes,” she said, nodding emphatically.  Holding her bouquet of pink, yellow and orange Gerber daisies tightly in one hand, she gripped her father’s arm as the doors were opened.  

There was a murmur and a rustling as people turned and then rose to their feet.  There was a collective ‘ooh’ when the onlookers saw her dress, and everywhere Felicity looked, there were smiles.  

But then she met Oliver’s gaze and everything and everyone faded away, because he looked so happy.  Happier than she had ever seen him--in a way she had never seen him before.  Because he looked resolved.  Like he didn’t distrust his happiness or expect it to vanish.  He knew his happiness was real.  

It was enough to make tears prick her eyes at the thought of making Oliver believe in this, in her.  After everything she had put him through, she had managed to make up for what she had done.  It would never go away--they could never ignore what had happened between them to break up their first engagement.  But as their engagement was turning into a marriage, Felicity knew they wouldn’t let anything tear them apart again.  

In a dark tuxedo, with a bright orange daisy in his lapel, Oliver was the most handsome man she had ever seen.  And even better than his appearance was who he was--because he was also the best man she had ever met.  As Tony led her down the aisle, Felicity found herself taking a moment to just express her thanks to the universe.  To whatever force that was bigger than herself, which had helped bring her to this moment.  Maybe it was Peggy looking out for her, or her grandparents.  Perhaps it was just fate or destiny.  Or it could be that there wasn’t anything except a lot of hard work.  

Whatever it was, she was here, standing in front of Deputy Mayor Quentin Lance, with her father and Oliver flanking her.  She turned to hand Caitlin her bouquet, then faced forward, ready to go.  

“Who gives this woman in marriage?” the former Captain Lance asked.  

“Actually, ‘giving a woman in marriage’ is a patriarchal construct that has no bearing in today’s--”  

“Dad!” Felicity hissed.  “I appreciate your feminist bona fides, but just answer the question.”  

From the laughter that rippled through the room, neither of their voices were very quiet.  Blushing, Felicity looked at Oliver, who was ducking his head but had a huge grin on his face.  

“Oh, all right,” Tony said.  “Her mother and I do,” he replied loudly, before turning to the audience and giving them a wink.  He then kissed Felicity on her cheek and stepped back, moving to his seat next to Pepper.  

Felicity shared a look with her mother, then shook her head and looked at Oliver.  “Haven’t changed your mind yet?” she whispered, taking his hand.  

He looked at her for a long moment, his grin having shifted into a warm, loving smile.  “No way.”  

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I’d let you get away--not when we’re this close,” Felicity said, unable to help the smile she could feel stretching her face.  

To her surprise, Oliver leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly, drawing an ‘awwww’ from the guests.  Felicity smiled shyly and looked at Captain Lance, who had been waiting patiently through all this happy silliness.  

“Right, now that we’ve gotten the ‘giving away’ question settled, let’s begin,” Lance said, prompting another wave of laughter.  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Felicity and Oliver.”

As Lance spoke, reading through the wedding service, Felicity laced her fingers through Oliver’s, breathing slowly and easily.  Her nerves and anxiety had fallen away once the ceremony had begun, and now that she was actually becoming Oliver’s wife, everything felt right.  Especially when she looked at Oliver.  

“By the power invested in me by Star City, I may now pronounce you husband and wife.  You may kiss the bride.”  

Unconsciously, Felicity squeezed Oliver’s hand as she turned to face him, smiling up at him.  He was beaming at her, one hand coming up to cup her face as he leaned down.  

Just before his lips connected with hers, Oliver whispered, “Hi, Mrs. Queen.”  

So when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife, Felicity was trying not to laugh while holding back her tears of happiness.  And from the way Oliver’s lips felt against hers, she knew he was smiling through the kiss.

When he pulled back, Felicity wiped at her eyes quickly, smiling up at him.  “Does that mean I get to call you Mr. Stark?”  

“Only if you don’t want me to answer,” he replied, still smiling, but so monotone that she wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not.  

“We’ll talk more about this later,” she told him, taking her bouquet from a sniffing, smiling Caitlin and then sliding her hand into the crook of his arm.  

“Oh, I know we will,” Oliver said, walking with her down the aisle, smiling and nodding at the guests who were loudly congratulating them.  

Felicity did the same, nearly stopping in her tracks when she spied Steve and Bucky in the back row and off to the side.  Bucky gave her a small smile, while Steve nodded, both of them applauding with the rest of the audience.  

“Oliver--is that Steve and Bucky, or am I dreaming?”  

“You’re not dreaming,” he told her quietly.  “Surprise.”  

Blinking, she stared at him.  “Did you do this?”  

“Not exactly, but I did tell them they should come,” Oliver said, walking with her towards the room where they were having pictures taken.  “They appeared at my bachelor party and I told them you would want them here.”

Her lip trembled as she tried to hold back the tears.  Because . . . of course he would tell two of her favorite uncles that they should be here for her wedding.  Of course Steve and Bucky would want to make sure they wouldn’t cause a disruption by appearing here today.  

“And I warned your dad, too, which is why I think he was being so . . . so . . . “

“So Tony?” she replied, laughing even as she wiped away a tear.  

Oliver nodded and smiled at her, gently brushing his thumb over the top of her cheek.  “Everyone’s going to be on their best behavior for you.  So you can just enjoy the reception and be happy.”  

“I am happy.  So--more happy--I don’t have the words, Oliver,” she said, another tear slipping down her cheek.  

“Me, too,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly.  And in his embrace, Felicity closed her eyes and relaxed, knowing that it was okay.  That she didn’t have to be some superwoman or a badass or perfect.  She just had to be Felicity, and that was enough.  For Oliver and for herself.  

XXX

By the time Felicity was able to talk to Steve and Bucky, the reception was in full swing.  The dinner would be served any minute, but she wanted to talk to her favorite uncles first.  And it wasn’t like they were hard to find.  

Walking up to them, Felicity felt her smile growing larger and larger.  When Steve spotted her, he smiled just as widely and walked towards her.  “Felicity,” he said, before hugging her.  “Congratulations.”  

“Thank you,” she said as she hugged him back.  “Thank you for being here.”  

Steve drew back, wearing an ‘aw-shucks’ expression on his face.  “I would have hated to miss this.  I just--we weren’t sure if we would be welcome.”  

Felicity rested her hand on his arm.  “Nothing changed between us, Steve.”  

“I meant because of your dad,” Steve muttered, looking down.  “Neither of us wanted to cause problems.”  

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m glad that Oliver told you guys to come,” Felicity said, smiling at her stubborn, hard-headed uncle.  Then she turned and looked at Bucky, feeling her heart swell at how he looked.  The dark circles were nearly gone, and he looked healthy and fairly whole.  Like her Uncle Bucky.  

“Hiya, Pigtails,” he said, giving her his usual small, crooked smile.  The one that concealed just how deeply he felt.  “Nice dress.”  

Sticking her tongue out at him, Felicity stepped forward and hugged him.  “‘Nice dress’.  That’s all I get?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh and hugged her back.  “Okay, really nice dress.”  

Laughing, Felicity pulled back and smiled at him.  “Gee, thanks.  Now I’m not so sure why I wanted you both here so badly.”  

“Awww, you woulda missed us,” Steve said, clearly trying to match her joking tone, but not quite pulling it off.  “Besides, if it wasn’t for you and the information you found about Bucky, we wouldn’t be here.”  

“Thanks for that, Pigtails,” Bucky said with a nod.  

“You’re welcome--but I didn’t do anything that special,” Felicity explained.  “It was just an algorithm to go through all the HYDRA data, to see if they detailed how to undo the conditioning.”  

Steve and Bucky looked at each other.  “No big deal, she says,” the former Captain America said.

“Yeah, really,” Bucky replied.  “Didn’t you tell me there was something like millions of files?”  

“Possibly a billion,” Steve said, smirking at Felicity a little.

She rolled her eyes.  “Okay, okay, I’m awesome, clearly.”  

“You’re damn right you are.”  

The sound of her father’s voice made Felicity tense up slightly.  Turning slowly, she saw him take a few steps closer.  Her eyes flicked towards Steve and Bucky, who had both straightened up, then moved back towards her father.  Who was accompanied by her mother, so at least Felicity knew she had backup in case she needed it.

“Hey, Dad.  I’m glad you think so,” she said, smiling and trying to keep the peace by continuing the conversation.  “Hi, Mom.”  

Pepper smiled at her, holding Tony’s hand.  Then she looked at Steve and Bucky, her smile remaining in place.  “Thank you for joining us.”  

Bucky nodded, looking a bit nervous, but Steve didn’t really register her mother’s greeting.  All his attention was focused on her father--which didn’t surprise Felicity at all.  She was watching him, too.  Because she doubted Tony would let this situation unfold calmly.  That wasn’t his style.  

For a long, awkward moment, nothing was said.  Felicity wondered what was going to happen.  But then, to her surprise, her father moved closer to kiss the top of her head, before turning and extending his hand.  “Steve.”  

It was like a balloon had been popped, the way the tension deflated.  Felicity felt like she could breathe again, even though seeing Steve reach out to take her father’s hand was definitely something that made her chest feel tight.  

Pepper moved to stand between Tony and Felicity, her hand grasping Felicity’s as Steve shook Tony’s hand.

“Tony.  Congratulations.”  

“On having an amazing daughter?  Yeah, it’s all her mother,” Tony said, giving Pepper a warm look before turning to face Bucky.  Felicity could see him swallow before he said, his voice choked, “Barnes.”  

“Stark,” Bucky replied, sounding equally at a loss for words.  He hesitated for a long moment, then held his hand out to Tony.

When Tony took Bucky’s hand, Felicity gripped her mother’s hand tightly, hope rising inside her like a bubble floating towards the ceiling.  This was good.  This was a first step towards making things better.  And she was so glad it was happening at her wedding.  Her life had fallen apart this year, in part because so many people in her life had fallen apart, too.  It felt fitting for everything to be coming back together in parallel with her.  

Maybe that was really arrogant of her, but that was what it felt like.  And if she had played some small part in helping bring the Avengers back?  It might make everything she had experienced worth it.  

Catching sight of Oliver, watching intently, Felicity revised that opinion.  No, nothing was worth what she had put Oliver through.  But . . . but at least everything had worked out.  

And right now, they were in the middle of a party.  A party for her and Oliver, that she wanted all of her family to enjoy.  

Thanks to Oliver’s mind-reading ability, he walked over and joined the group.  “Steve, Bucky, good to see you again,” he said, shaking each man’s hand before wrapping an arm around Felicity.  

“We appreciate you making this happen,” Steve said.  “Although we don’t want to keep you from the rest of the reception.”  

“Nonsense,” Felicity said.  “We’re the bride and groom.  We’re in charge.  And we want you both to stay for dinner and the rest of the reception.”  

Oliver smiled and nodded.  “What she said.”  

“Already sounds like a husband,” Tony said.  “Did you tell Felicity about the strip steak story yet?”

Steve and Bucky both snorted in near-unison and Pepper rolled her eyes.  Felicity looked up at Oliver in confusion.  “Strip steak story?”

“I’ll tell you later.  When we’re discussing last names,” Oliver promised, smiling at her as he kissed her temple.  

“Mmm-hmm,” she said skeptically, before looking back at Steve and Bucky.  “Please stay.”  

They exchanged a look, holding one of those silent conversations they could have after so many years of friendship, and then Steve nodded.  “Okay.”  

“Steve, Bucky, come with me and we’ll get you seats,” Pepper said, smiling at Felicity and ushering the two of them away, leaving Tony with Felicity and Oliver.  

She reached out and touched her father’s shoulder.  “Thank you, Dad.  For making peace.”  

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t gonna spoil your wedding.  And it was just a matter of time before we’d have to bury the hatchet.  Not in one another, but just in general,” Tony said.  

“Still--thank you, Tony,” Oliver said quietly.  

Her father nodded, then said, “I’m starving.  Let’s get this dinner started.”  

With that, he took off for the head table, making Felicity shake her head a little.  “My father, ladies and gentlemen.”  

“He’s not so bad,” Oliver said, rubbing her back.  “He’s predictable at least.”  

Felicity arched an eyebrow.  “Tony Stark, predictable?  Oh, please, call him that to his face when I’m around, so I can see his expression.”  

“He is,” Oliver argued, smiling at her.  

Gently bantering, they followed her father towards the head table, getting ready for dinner and some time together before the rest of the reception.

XXX

It was very late.  Even for a reception attended by various Avengers, X-Men, and other superheroes.  Yet Felicity didn’t want the night to end.  

After dinner, there had been dancing.  Some of the highlights for Felicity were dancing with each member of the team, including Rory, while Oliver danced with Dinah.  Tommy had embarrassed Laurel by breaking out some of his high school dance moves, which even Oliver had joined in with for a few steps.  Thea and Roy had spent most of the night gazing into each other’s eyes, making Felicity wonder if another Queen wedding would be happening soon.  

Best of all, she got to dance with her father and all of her favorite uncles . . . including Rhodey.  Admittedly, he was still using the leg braces her father had created for him--but he was going to be getting the first implant that came off the line of the SI factory.  But it was still wonderful to dance with Rhodey and have him whisper a few stories about her dad that Rhodey had never told her before.  

But now, the end was near.  Soon, she and Oliver would be leaving for two weeks in Bali, where she would be utterly disconnected.  She wasn’t even taking a tablet with her.  Instead, she would be focusing on starting the next chapter in her life . . . with her husband.

Until then, though, she just wanted to dance with Oliver.  He had discarded his jacket and bow tie, and Felicity had kicked off her shoes, taken off her veil and let down her hair.  Slowly, they circled around on the dance floor, Oliver’s arm around her waist keeping most of her weight off the floor.  

“You know, the party can’t really end until we leave,” Oliver said softly in her ear.  

“Mmmm, I know, but I don’t want tonight to end,” she said, tilting her head back to look up at him.  “It’s the happiest day of my life.”  

Oliver smiled softly and brushed a butterfly-soft kiss against her lips.  “So we’ll just have to make tomorrow the happiest day of our lives.  And keep doing that every day.”  

“I like the sound of that,” Felicity said, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

Because that was what marriage was, she thought.  Working to make every day the best, the happiest, the most full-of-love day of their lives.  They wouldn’t always succeed, of course.  They would each have bad days, and would have bad days together.  But in the end, it was just about being together.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her parents not far away, dancing just as slowly as she and Oliver.  Pepper looked like she was falling asleep on Tony, and her father looked disheveled and relaxed.  When he saw Felicity looking over at them, he gave her a wink, making her giggle.  

“Mrs. Queen?”

A little shiver went down her spine.  Oliver really liked calling her that, she had noticed.  And she really liked hearing him call her that.  

Looking up at him, she smiled.  “Yeah, Mr. Stark?”  

He grinned a little and kissed her forehead, showing that his joke from earlier had been just that--a joke.  “How about we go enjoy our first night as married people?”  

“Mmm,” she hummed, running her hand down his back.  “You mean by going upstairs, taking a shower, and getting some sleep?”

A devilish look appeared on his face, then Oliver leaned in to whisper in her ear, “And make love at least twice.  Because I want to hear the sounds my wife makes in bed.”  

Heat rushed to her face, and other places in her body, as Felicity nodded eagerly.  “Yes, that.  I would like to do just that.”  

Taking his hand, Felicity started tugging Oliver towards the exit.  He laughed and said, “Wait, Felicity--your shoes--we should say goodbye to everyone--”  

“Nope,” she said, looking back at him with a wide, happy smile.  “I can’t wait.  Let’s go, husband.”  

After all, when everything was right in your world, what was the use of waiting?

End.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://www.rosaclara.es/en/rc/onasis-2/) is the wedding dress I had in mind for Felicity.
> 
> Many thanks to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline and adiwriting for their beta help on this fic!


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